The Twelve Stages of Crushing on Pete Kowalski
by FearandLoathingXIX
Summary: It's a complicated process, and Jimmy is an uncomplicated kind of guy. Somehow that makes it even more complicated. Jimmy/Pete post-game.
1. Confusion

Welcome to the first edition of my new fic, an in-the-flesh slash pairing with your very own James Hopkins and Pete Kowalski, darlings of Bullworth Academy.

For the record I don't know if it's going to be 12 chapters or not, what fun it'll be finding out if it is!

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_The Twelve Stages of Crushing on Pete Kowalski_

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_1. Confusion_

Jimmy Hopkins had a problem.

He'd had a lot of problems in his short life so far, but this one was up there with_ 'psychopaths trying to take over the school_' and '_getting stepdad #3 arrested for beating up mom_'. However, unlike many of the problems he confronted on a daily basis, this one couldn't be solved with the help of Lefty and Righty, a.k.a. his fists, not the Greasers.

No, this was one predicament that Jimmy definitely could not punch his way out of. Pete Kowalski had a hard enough time without being beaten up on top of it.

At first Jimmy had assumed it was food poisoning. He should've known better than to eat Edna's Cat Casserole and agree to a study session – namely, 'letting Pete help him with his homework so he didn't fail' – after classes one day. That sick, churning sensation in his stomach as Pete leaned over his shoulder and read his chicken-scratch handwriting with little pursed lips was probably an indication he was going to have the shits, or so he thought.

He hadn't been sure about letting Pete do this in the first place, because he didn't like feeling stupid and Pete's eyes glossing over his attempts to make sense of letters being numbers (why the hell did they use letters instead of numbers?) felt exactly like being stupid.

"Just say if it's wrong," he muttered, biting the inside of his lips and wondering why he didn't just get someone else to do it for him. Melvin still owed him a favour that time he filled in for him at the bi-weekly Grottos and Gremlins night. He owed him like _ten _favours for that.

"It's not wrong," Pete replied too casually; easy for him when he understood this mathmatical bullshit and could pull As and Bs out of his ass without ever having to try. "You just have to remember that the letters are symbols for numbers."

"That doesn't make any goddam sense," he huffed. "G an H don't add up to make J, they make _GuH_," he enunciated.

"They're just stand-in's," Pete explained. "If G is 1 and H is 2, J is 3."

"What? Slow down," he berated. Pete leaned over to grab a spare sheet of paper and Jimmy had to move out of the way of his arm under pink cotton. He never had asked why Pete wore pink shirts.

"If it was 1 + 2, the answer is 3, right?" he laid out, and Jimmy hated the feeling of being babied. Nor was the churning in his stomach helping at all. It felt too strange to have Pete schooling him like this.

"Sure," he grunted.

"And if it was 2 + 4, the answer is 6," he continued obliviously, jotting down neat little numbers with pens that always worked when _he _used them. "So instead of writing a number, they substitute a letter."

"Why?" he put. "Why not just use a fucking number?" He noticed Pete's eyes roll his way as he cursed, like he didn't approve but wasn't going to say anything.

"Because you can do things with symbols that you can't with numbers," he explained. "Look, how about we don't use letters at all? I'll just use actual symbols," he continued. "The letters come from greek anyway so the alphabet wasn't... okay, never mind," he cut off, sensing he was losing Jimmy. He scribbled down a set of formula.

+ = 10

+ 4 = 6

"So with those, you can work out what numbers the smiley face and the heart are," he announced. "If you know that a heart plus 4 is 6..." He was expecting Jimmy to step in.

Jimmy felt stupid and sick because letting people know they were better than him was usually top on his list of things that _never _happened, but Pete had offered to help him and he'd said yes so it was his fault they were in this position. He had to do this or accept looking a dumbass. It wasn't four and a heart, he pointed out to himself. The heart was a number, which added to four made six.

"Two," he mumbled awkwardly, and Pete scribbled it down.

= 2

"Exactly," he commended. "If that's two, then for the first one, we can write this."

+ 2 = 10

"So the smiley face is 8," he clued in.

"Right," Pete commented, and it was good he didn't sound smug because then Jimmy would feel awful about having to hit him. "Algebra simply uses letters instead of hearts and smiley faces, that's all."

"There's just one thing I don't get," he remarked, and Pete leant in on one elbow, watching Jimmy with half a smile on his face – only _he'd_ be happy doing homework – and Jimmy wondered why he felt so damn _sick_.

"What?" Pete enquired.

"WHY?" he burst, and the raised tone made Pete blink, almost like a flinch. Then he grinned and started to laugh.

"Ask the Greeks," he answered mirthfully.

"What've they got to do with it?" Jimmy retorted.

"They invented algebra," he explained, and Jimmy chucked his pen down on the desk.

"Well thanks for nothing, Greece," he remarked dramatically, and Pete laughed again. Jimmy wondered why in hell they were sitting so damn close together, then realised it was because half his desk had a science kit on it.

"Most of these are right," Pete insisted. "You just need to finish filling in the values." Jimmy looked back over the work and saw what he meant. He'd done half of it but not finished the job.

"I'll do it later," he commented.

"No, do it now," Pete countered and Jimmy gave him a stare, as if to check if he'd _really _told him what to do just then. That promotion to Head Boy must be going to his head. "If you do it now, it'll be over," he lobbied.

"If I _don't _do it now, I don't have to do it now," he responded, and Pete had the nerve to sigh.

"Come on, Jimmy," he insisted. "It'll take you five minutes."

"What are you, my mom?" he snapped, but then remembered that his mom had never made him do his homework. That might've been one of the problems that brought him here. "Fine," he begrudged, picking the pen up and starting to go back over the problems. "But only cause I like you," he muttered, and then he had a squeeze in his gut like someone had nailed him with a football.

Why'd he say it like that? He meant because Pete was a friend. A friend whose bored staring out of the window suggested his indifference, but there was Jimmy feeling like he needed to puke for some reason.

"See?" Pete declared a few minutes later as Jimmy finished the work. "Was that _really _so hard?"

"No," he said shortly, flicking his pen off the end of the desk so it clattered to the floor noisily. "I guess not."

"And now it's done, right?" Pete prompted gleefully, like a trainer balancing treats on a dog's nose.

"Christ, I get it!" he snapped, then stopped himself and bit his tongue. "Sorry," he added, because of course Pete was shocked and probably hurt. "I don't like being patronised," he grumbled, shoving the homework under his planner so he didn't have to think about it any more.

"I wasn't... well, I didn't mean it to sound like that," he offered. "Sorry, Jimmy." He should've known better than to eat that 'meat stew', Jimmy scolded himslef. He felt like he was about to pass out.

"I, uh... gotta go," he announced, staggering up and heading for his door. "I think I ate something." That sounded dumb. "Something bad," he amended, putting a hand to his doorframe. Pete had turned and was watching him from the desk, ankles crossed neatly under his chair, elbow hanging off the back.

"Watch out for that canteen, it'll get ya," he joked, grinning at himself and his dashes of attempted wit. After the stripper-joke incident he was more careful about the limbs he went out on, which was probably best for everyone.

"Seeya," Jimmy blurted before he dashed out. But by the time he got to the bathroom the nausea was almost gone, even with the stink of the place. How the hell did _that _work?

He thought it was heatstroke next; that he was getting dizzy spells because it was summer and gorgeous outside, which was another word for fucking sweltering.

He and Pete were sitting against a wall on one of the patches of turf taking in the rays over lunch break. Pete had kicked off his shoes and socks, ankles sticking out the end of his pants because he was apparently growing – not that you'd know it to look at him in a line-up – and soon enough with the heat the sweatervest came off too, stuffed behind his head as he lay flat on his back looking like a marshmallow.

"Why _do _you wear pink shirts?" Jimmy found himself asking, and Pete squinted open an eye to look up at him, then shrugged.

"It's not that weird," he answered.

"Isn't it?" Jimmy retorted, and saw the little frown cross Pete's mouth for a second, fast enough to have missed if you weren't staring.

"My mom bought them and I'd have to get new ones if I was gonna switch," he explained nonchalantly, like he didn't care, although maybe he did. Maybe he had to act like he didn't give a damn to deal with it. "And they fade less. White shirts look like crap when they've been washed a dozen times." They did when it was at the Bullworth laundry facilities. Those machines took bricks and Algie's glasses as ferry just as often as they took clothes.

"Right," Jimmy murmured. "So it's a _style_ thing?"

"Yeah," Pete chuckled. "I'm just that fashionable, Jimmy." It was a joke, clearly, but came off a little funny, like a lot of things Pete said. Jimmy wondered if the heat was getting to him.

"I think I might move into the shade," he declared, wiping sweat from his brow as he rose. He was going to freckle something awful if he got too much sun anyway. Irish blood.

"All right," Pete said easily, getting up and grabbing his blazer, sweater and socks in one hand, stuffing bare feet into his shoes with the other.

"Don't you wanna work on your tan?" Jimmy jested.

"Just my head?" Pete retorted brightly. "If I wanted a tan I'd take off my shirt." Something about the phrase stuck in Jimmy's throat. He found he didn't have a smartass reply, just lumbered along into the shade of a nearby tree and wondered what kind of lunatic heatstroke was making him think of Pete sunbathing shirtless.

"This weather," he huffed, wishing he didn't feel so damn hot and uncomfortable.

"I kinda like it," Pete answered, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He looked brown already, even though the good weather had barely lasted a fortnight. He had the kind of complexion, Jimmy reasoned, then considered why he was concerning himself with Pete's skin because that was clearly absurd, and decided he could use a nap. He lay back, chucking some rotten apples out of the way, and closed his eyes.

"_Jimmy?_" A voice. "_Jimmy?" _A familiar one. "_Jiiiimmmyyyy_."Okay, now it was getting annoying. Jimmy felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him too softly, like they were trying to rock a cradle, and opened his eyes only to be wondering why Pete was hanging over him with all his top buttons undone.

"What?" he groaned, screwing his eyes shut and trying to go back to sleep. The shaking on his shoulder continued.

"We kinda have to go to class," Pete pointed out, and Jimmy just wanted to roll over and nap away the afternoon.

"Screw that," he moaned, draping a hand over his eyes. He didn't expect Pete to grab his wrist and pull it up.

"C'mon, Jimmy," he berated, fingers seeming delicate around his wrist. "I don't wanna go by myself."

And there was the sick feeling again, Jimmy noticed. He pushed himself upright and brushed dry grass off the back of his head.

"All right," he conceded grouchily, "but only for you." It was meant to sound like a bitter remark, ask if Pete were dragging him along by his heels and would've done better to let him nap away second-period English, but it didn't. It was more like_'for you because I like you, Pete_' and Jimmy was half-asleep or dehydrated or coming down with _something _because he just did not feel right.

It took one more push to realise it, but because he'd always been a stubborn son of a bitch it had to be stronger than the others. Trust his loyalty instinct to get the best of him.

He heard it before he saw it, because if he'd been within eyeshot they never would've dared. Voices around a corner in dimmed school corridors.

"Don't think cause you're Head Boy you're not still a _loser!"_ a voice ricocheted in an empty building. It was later than most people dawdled after final bell, so the halls were empty. Jimmy had been kept back negotiating a new roll of film from Ms. Phillips.

"I don't want any trouble." They only had one Head Boy, so of course it was Pete, but his voice was distorted, metallic. Jimmy heard the smash of locker-door abuse and started seeing red.

"Well you better think twice before you do anything that gets in our way, okay?!" It sounded like Casey, Jimmy deduced. Casey and Luis he confirmed on rounding the corner.

"Ok-kay! Just lemme-" Pete's voice was coming out of a locker that now had a big dent in the door.

"What the _hell _do you two think you're doing?!" Jimmy burst, tearing down the hallway and grabbing Casey before he even turned around. Jimmy grabbed two fists full of football jersey and shoved the jock back into the other wall of lockers so hard his head smashed off the back.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Jimmy! Didn't see you there, uh-... I can explain."

"I don't wanna hear it!" he snapped, noticing Luis come up on his eight 'o clock. He headbutted Casey, spun him around and then shoved him right on top of the other jock, sending them both tumbling to the floor where he put in the boot a couple of times. "If this ever happens again, you're both _dead meat_," he hissed, and it was real fear in their eyes as they scrambled up and sprinted out of the building wheezing like eighty-year olds on oxygen.

Jimmy ripped open the locked and winced at the sight of Pete stuffed inside.

"Are you all right?" He reached in and pulled Pete out; gently, he tried, but he was crammed in there along with someone's sports kit and an unusual amount of empty paste bottles.

"I've had worse," Pete said shakily, and he was putting on a brave face which was about as convincing as the Edna mask Troy wore last Halloween. He looked like all the colour had run out of him and if the Head Boy blazer weren't slightly too big, Jimmy would've been able to tell if he was actually trembling or not.

"Christ, Pete," he breathed. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" he said with shallow breaths, like he was having a panic attack. "You d-didn't do it."

"No, but I... could've gotten here sooner," he fussed. "Let's go get them written up," he suggested, heading for the office. They might not get suspended from the football team for it, but it was worth something.

"No, don't bother," Pete interjected. "It's fine, Jimmy. It happens."

"Getting beat up by a couple of jocks and stuffed in a locker doesn't just _happen_!" he contested, feeling guilty, like he'd put them on the job.

"To me it does," he replied glumly, and Jimmy realised he was gritting his teeth so hard his jaw was aching.

"Not if I can help it," he seethed, slamming the locker door shut so hard he probably busted it for good, while Pete winced.

"What are you gonna do, follow me around all the time?" he offered sceptically. "It's fine, Jimmy. It's over now."

"That's all you've got to say about it?!" he fumed, and in a burst of frustration punched the next locker along. His hand wasn't thankful.

"Whoah, easy," Pete urged. "That's not gonna help, is it?" He'd put his hands on Jimmy's arm like he'd be able to hold the next punch back. "You don't need to get so mad," he insisted, and on some level Jimmy understood that was right. He _didn't _need to get so mad, but he was. He was seven shades of fucking furious with those jocks and wished he hadn't let them get away.

"Let's get out of here," he growled, and Pete could agree with him on that.

On the way back he caught Pete rubbing his arm.

"They _did _hurt you," he accused, and Pete's hand dropped suddenly. Like he'd been putting it on, covering up to save Jimmy's temper.

"Just a bruise," he excused. "I'm fine, Jimmy." This time it was sounding more like a plea to just _drop _it, and Jimmy fought with himself to let it go.

"Okay," he forced. "All right. Sorry I lost it." He didn't know why he was apologising, but had the notion that it'd make Pete feel better.

"No problem," he answered. "You did save my ass, so thanks for that." He smiled halfway turned towards Jimmy, and at that point exactly Jimmy had the urge to just grab him. Not for any particular purpose, but just reach out and grab him like that'd explain why he was so mad and why Pete should care more and let Jimmy go kick their asses again just to make sure they knew their place. "What?" Pete interrupted his chain of thought.

"What?" he parroted.

"Did they get my face?" Pete asked, touching it. Jimmy's eyes had never hit the asphalt so quickly.

"Oh, no," he muttered. "Nothing. Never mind." They reached the dorm and Pete scurried off to his room, probably to go check out his bruises and see what the real damage was, which Jimmy illogically felt the need to know. Except he couldn't just follow Pete into his room and wait for him to undress and check out his bruises like some kind of... of...

"Dammit," he hissed as it hit him, putting on a face of not being worried and waving at Pete as they went to their own rooms. He'd substituted the symbols for numbers. He'd solved the formula. "Godfuckingdammit."


	2. Admission

_2. Admission_

Jimmy wasn't a guy disposed to having crushes.

He was accustomed to wanting to screw people, _that_ was a feeling he could compute, one he understood perfectly. He met someone he liked, approached them, and if they responded to him everyone was happy and hopefully getting laid. Except he hadn't nursed a real, heart-and-soul _crush_ for a while, because when you were being thrown out of a couple schools a year it never made for much fun having to leave people behind. Not ones you actually liked.

But now he'd been at Bullworth nearly a year, and wasn't going anywhere fast. He'd gotten settled, and with Gary shipped off to whatever crazy camp they put creatures like him out to pasture in, things had slowed down enough to breathe. Jimmy actually had time to have feelings, and they'd taken him quite by surprise.

Why _him_, he had to wonder as he sat on his bed and realised that he'd gotten his first bout of incoherent protection-rage, which was usually the first sign.

It was a mistake, he decided. He probably had mono or something. Was coming down with a virus because of that time Beatrice ran him down and did her bulldozer come-on even when she was all snotty and disgusting sneezing into a handkerchief. She was going to make someone an absolutely terrifying wife some day.

"It's all in your head, Jimmy," he told himself, drilled it like Dr. Watts' damn periodic table. "Get over it."

With that settled, he decided he definitely didn't have a crush on Pete and got on with his life... for about a week. One week of ignoring it and then even _he_ had to accept the ugly reality. He had the works; the woozyness, saying the wrong thing, catching himself looking at Pete and wondering why in _high hell _he liked him, and realising that he helplessly, regrettably, did. At which point there was only one thing to do.

"Zoe," he began the next time he hung out with just her alone. They didn't really do 'dates' so much as coordinated mischief and sometimes making out. They were up by the pagoda outside glassjaw gym, debating which window you'd have to break to get a brick to land right on Derby's desk from outside.

"What is it?" She was scraping crap out from under her nails with a paper clip, feet up on one of the benches out of the sun. Neither of them were made for weather like this.

"I've got a..." He paused, took a breath. "Swear you won't laugh."

"What?" she scoffed. "Is this the confession, Jimmy? Is this when you tell me you love me?"

"You know I love you," he quipped, relaxing a bit more. He did love her, partly because they felt so similar. It was nice to be with a person who was on the same wavelength... the same aggressive, short-tempered wavelength. "No, it's something else."

"Then spit it out," she denounced. Now or never, Jimmy prepped.

"I think..."

"Hey!" Jimmy's stomach almost leapt up his throat and inside-outed in his mouth. Not him. Not now.

"Heya, squirt," Zoe cheered, shifting her feet off the bench and inviting Petey onto it. "How's it hanging?"

"Nice weather," he glowed. After hours he obviously wasn't wearing school uniform, not in this weather. His shirt looked like a hand-me-down, given it was about two sizes too big for him and had colourful scenery of a desert island printed all over, but the shorts fit at least.

"For you, maybe," Zoe commented. "I'll burn like a shrimp out there."

"Guess I'm lucky," he replied, wrinkling his nose. "I just go brown."

"Oh yeah, rub it in, why don't you?" Zoe baited. "Anyway, Jimmy was about to-"

"Ah ah ah!" he erupted, realising where she was trying to pick up again. He drilled her with alook and changed topic. "I was just talking about getting some ice cream," he substituted. "Wanna come?"

Pete had this habit of smiling like he was thrilled every time he was included in anything. Like the surprise never wore off. Jimmy's collar itched against his neck with the heat. "Sure," he offered brightly, and off the three of them went for topic-avoidance ice-cream.

Afterwards Pete wanted to go back to school, something about prefects and homework, but Jimmy had a better inclination to go with Zoe's plan of her place and a kung-fu movie. He kept his mouth shut and tried not to encourage Pete to 'drop the loser shit and come with them' as Zoe so eloquently put it, but Pete was thankfully on a stubborn streak and insisted that they _all _ought to go back to school.

"I'll be back later," Jimmy negotiated like this was the best compromise for them all. "Don't sweat it, Pete. In time for curfew."

"Well... all right," he murmured, wearing his disappointment like a badge. He probably wanted the company on the bus ride, or perhaps he knew that between Zoe and himself there wouldn't be any trouble. Something did niggle at Jimmy leaving him to go back alone, but it had to be done. "See you tomorrow."

"Bright and early," Jimmy faked, feeling like his smile was way too obvious. They turned in different directions and proceeded in their own ways.

"So what was all that about?" Zoe pounced with the usual lack of restraint, approximately five steps away from Pete.

"I'll tell you later," he groaned. "And _don't_ laugh."

She didn't, actually, which was good of her, because if Jimmy was consulting himself he surely would have split his sides over it.

"So?" she prompted as Jimmy crashed on her beat-up couch and kicked of his sneakers. "Spill it."

"I think..." Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Take it easy. He put a hand over his eyes. "I think I'm gay for Pete." He winced and waited for the laughter, but the air was still and silent.

"Huh," Zoe proclaimed thoughtfully. "That does explain it." She got a jug of lemonade out of the fridge, which was approximately one meter from the couch. The place was technically her dad's, but he was never around. "How gay?"

"I don't know!" he burst, putting both hands to his face. "Gay enough to make it weird."

"For who, you or Pete?" she pointed out calmly. Not like she was a stranger to going both ways, so there was one thing less to worry about.

"Me," he grumbled. "I don't think he's cottoned on." And hopefully wouldn't.

"So lemme get this straight, Jimmy, if you'll pardon the term," she jibed. "You're crushing."

"Yeah."

"On Pete."

"...Yeah."

"Kowalski."

"Which other Petes are there?!" he spat. "Don't rub it in."

"Why are you acting like it's such a bad thing," she suggested. "You could do a lot worse. In fact, you _have _done a lot worse."

"But it's _Pete!"_ he protested. "You know... wears a pink-bunny-suit-Pete."

"What?" she bit.

"Oh yeah," he murmured. "You weren't around for that." In fairness, it had been Gary and his erratic ways. Pete wasn't exactly to blame for it, given that Jimmy wore the costume he'd been given as well. "I'm not prepared for this," he lamented.

"For _what_, Jimmy?" she baited. "Wanting to fuck your friends?"

"No," he argued. "That's it. If it were _that _I could deal with it, but it's something else." In fact the idea of just friend-banging Pete felt distinctly perverse, like committing statutory.

"So what do you want?"

"I dunno," he fussed. "I just... like him." He sounded like a real dipshit right about now, but at least it was only Zoe to revel in it.

"Why are you throwing a fit?" she said. "I mean... he's cute... kinda."

"I _know_," he gasped, pulling down the skin of his face like he could swap for another personality along with it. "I wish I knew why."

"Come on," Zoe goaded, and made it sound like he was being stupid.

"What?" he barked.

"Well, just the fact that he's literally the only person from Bullworth never to stab you in the back," she pointed out; she hadn't, but was a recent addition to the student body. "And he _did_ help you all those times." She paused, sipping her lemonade. "And he's, you know... one of those good people."

"Right?" Jimmy retorted. You could count the truly _good_ people at Bullworth on one hand. The ones who'd never turn their back on you, even when everyone else had, who wouldn't betray you for any advancement or prize.

"So what's the big deal?" she declared. "You got a crush. What are you gonna do about it?"

"_Do _about it?" he echoed. "Are you nuts? I can't do anything about it." Except hope it went away.

"What?" she spat. "You're gonna leave it at that?"

"Zoe," he said seriously. "It's Pete. _Pete." _He felt like this ought to be enough of an explanation.

"I'm not the one with the crush on him," she retorted, and then gave a shudder, clearly imagining it. "It'd feel like hitting on my little brother," she disparaged.

"Thanks a lot," he bemoaned.

"I'm not saying _you _can't like him," she contested. "Calm your tits. You don't even know if he's straight or what."

"Exactly," Jimmy replied. "In _this _school? I think there's more closeted gay bars." Not that he'd know. It was more common to hear shocked rumours that someone was actually _straight._

"He could just be shy," she said. "Also, the guys in Bullworth? Gross." She made a gagging motion, then noticed Jimmy staring. "Oh no offence," she delivered mechanically, but Jimmy continued to pout and she gave a dramatic sigh. "Does love usually make you this melodramatic?"

"I am _not _in love," he insisted, arms crossed and feeling like this conservation was the opposite of what he wanted. "It's just... a crush. Or something."

"Well, how did it start?" she asked, and he let out a long breath.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "It's like, since this whole thing with Gary wrapped up there's not much to do but run errands and hang out... and Pete's always around, and he's good company, actually. I guess... I started feeling kinda woozy," he narrated. "He helped me with some algebraic stuff and it was like... god, I had the fuckin' butterflies and everything." Zoe was outright staring at him.

"Is there _any_ chance you could be sick?" she questioned.

"Right?!" he burst. "That's what I thought. With this heat and all, I figured I was just going a bit nuts." He recounted the past weeks and wondered what in hell had happened to make him turn into a pubescent girl. "But then," he added, "I kinda... found a couple of jocks beating him up about a week ago, and I just flipped out."

"How bad?" Zoe inquired, eating chips out of the bag like she was watching a movie.

"Pretty bad," he admitted. "I threw'em around some."

"Right," she conceded. "That doesn't have to mean you fancy him."

"I know," he mooned. "It's the other stuff. I mean, I'm not stupid, I have had crushes before. Just not that often."

"It's really not that big of a deal," she advised. "Why don't you just do whatever it is you usually do to pick someone up?"

"I can't do _that," _he scorned. "Rip a bunch of flowers outta the ground and tell him he's got nice eyes. Yeah right..." He noticed Zoe giving him a look. "But _your _eyes really are special," he asided. "Swear it."

"Uhuh," she murmured, perhaps just a little aloof. "So you like him, but you won't do anything about it, like find out if he likes you, or even guys in general."

"Exactly," he said. "_Now _you're getting it."

"So what are you telling me for!" she snapped, throwing a handful of chips at him. "If you're gonna be damn stupid and not listen to any decent advice."

"Sympathy," he remarked, leaning backwards over the couch and looking at her upside-down. "Pity me."

"Sure, you poor, unfortunate soul," she groaned. "With your self-inflicted emotional trauma. You're worse than my ex."

"Which one?" Jimmy asked cheekily. "Cracky or methy?"

"Both," she hissed. Those weren't her nicknames, of course. Jimmy only needed to chase them back into Happy Volts once to never let her live it down. "What _is _he, anyway?" she remarked into her bag of chips a minute later.

"What?" he squawked.

"Pete," she resumed. "Is he gay, straight, what?"

"If I knew, would I be having this issue?" he suggested crudely.

"Yes," she batted back. "Yes you would, only you'd be bitching about some different angle of it." Jimmy huffed and realised that Zoe was only taking about as much shit from him as he'd take from anyone else, so he couldn't really begrudge her for it.

"Fine, be like that," he said cattily. Even if it was probably true.

"Look, it's simple," she declared. "All we have to do is find out what he's into. Then you're gonna know if you're wasting your time or not. You don't have to make it seem like you're _personally _interested just to find that out, right?"

"I guess not," he conceded, scratching his crown. "All right. But you'll have to help me," he pinned and she pulled a face.

"Why should I?" she protested indignantly. "It's _your _crush."

"Because you're a good friend," he stated. "and because you wanna know too." He knew she was nosier than she let on. She sighed and crunched on a chip.

"Fine," she agreed, picking up the bag and shoving his feet off the other end of the sofa to sit down.

"It's gonna be too weird to make out now, isn't it?" Jimmy commented, reaching for the chips and claiming one for himself.

"After you spent twenty minutes solid bitching about fancying Pete?" she parodied. "Just a little, Jimmy."

"Well if it's only a little-" he began enthusiastically, sitting all the way up and lunging for her. She palmed him off with a laugh and he flopped back down on the couch.

"I wouldn't want to get in the way of your romance," she teased, so he kicked her with a sweaty foot. She, in return, threw him off the sofa and stretched out herself. They ended up watching a movie with him cross-legged on one end and her laying face down across the length. His knees made a perfect dip to rest her boobs, which was apparently very convenient.

"Guess I better go," he announced with the final credits, and it was just a _little _bit after curfew, but he wasn't going to fuss over breaking a silly rule like that. "Are you coming?"

"Eh," she declined. "I'll just get up earlier tomorrow." The benefits of living in town. At the door they parted with a hug.

"Don't jerk off too hard thinking about Pete tonight," she taunted, ruining the moment.

"Go fuck yourself," he responded courteously.

"Maybe I should ask if Pete wants to do it for me," she returned. "That'd be a way to find out what he likes, right?"

"Not funny!" Jimmy yelled as he picked up a bike and started to pedal away. She shouted something after him, but he didn't catch it.


	3. Investigation

_3. Investigation _

"So," Jimmy began one Friday afternoon as he strolled back from classes with Pete. He hadn't actually started following him, but he equally wasn't planning to leave him alone in places he might get caught out any time soon. "Successful week?"

"Huh?" Pete murmured.

"I asked if you had a successful week," Jimmy repeated. "_Y'nno_."

"Um... I guess so?" he answered.

"Really?" Jimmy preyed. "How many?"

"What?" There was the distinct impression that Pete wasn't getting this.

"Did you score this week?" he fired, slightly less relaxed than he'd started out.

"What?" he scoffed. "Why're you asking me _that_?"

"Why not?" Jimmy shot. "Just chatting the shit, Pete. What, can't I ask if you got some action?" Almost as if he might have some kinda direct vested interest in it.

"Me?" Pete posed. "You really think there's a chance of _me _getting any action around here?"

"Why not?" he retorted. "I mean... whatever you go for..."

"What?" Pete started.

"What?" Jimmy echoed.

"_What_?" It rounded back again. "Are you feeling all right, Jimmy?" he queried. "You drinking enough in this heat?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled. Confused, frustrated, generally jaded about his situation and why he had to go and ruin the sweet deal he had going on in this school. "Nothin', Pete. I was just kidding around."

"Uh... haha, good one," he laughed uncertainly, and the topic was never mentioned again.

So that was strike one out.

The next time he and Zoe conspired that if Jimmy was too chickenshit to flirt with Pete himself, Zoe would do it and find out that way

"Heya, squirt," she called after him across the playground, catching up while Jimmy hid behind the auto-shop wall and eavesdropped from the other side.

"Hi, Zoe," he answered cheerfully. Always so damn perky these days. "How's it going?"

"Good," she answered. "I was looking for you, actually," she began. "See, I've got this problem, and I figured you could help."

"Oh?" Pete prompted, expecting the usual host of things that people thought a Head Boy could fix, but he really couldn't.

"See, I've got two tickets to see this movie in Bullworth Town tonight, and no one to take me," she revealed suggestively, and Jimmy felt the muscles in his jaw strain.

"Whu... oh, I get it," Pete second-guesed. "Is this a set up?"

"No," she countered. "Why'd you think that?"

"C'mon, you don't really want me to take you to the movies," he insisted blandly.

"I do," she forced.

"What about Jimmy?"

"I'm not tied down to Jimmy!" she declared proudly. "He doesn't _own _me. Besides, he's..." Jimmy's heart stopped for a moment, "...got other interests right now," she finished, and he could breathe again.

"Oh," Pete sidelined. "Well... what movie is it?" he continued, and Jimmy had the sensation that this was turning into a friend-outing.

"Just a _romance _flick," Zoe replied. "I thought we could get to, uh... know each other better, maybe sit in the back-"

"Hey guys!" Jimmy saluted as he hopped over the wall and landed right between the pair of them. "Talkin' about movies?"

"Jimmy!" Zoe hissed.

"All right, you got me," Pete denounced cheerfully. "I'm sure this is real funny for some reason, but I've gotta get to the office, okay? Enjoy your movie." He might as well have skipped off, leaving Zoe and Jimmy slumped against the wall.

"Did you just get _jealous_?" she accused fiercely.

"No," he denied. "I mean... not really. Pete wasn't buying it anyway."

"He might've if you'd let me finish," she badgered. "Who is it you're actually jealous of, huh?"

"I don't know!" he snapped, then took a second to think about it. "Both of you!"

"You are a child, Jimmy Hopkins," she declared. "Why don't you just _ask _him?"

"Oh that's rich," he scoffed. "I just march up to him and ask if he likes chicks or dicks... wait a minute, that might work." Zoe threw up her hands and sighed, wandering off to find something less aggravating to do.

The weekend came with a fresh set of Math homework and Jimmy reasoned that he could find a way to ask Pete which team he played for and get some work done at the same time.

However, that also involved sitting crammed up at one end of his desk again and it seemed even harder to concentrate having admitted that he was harbouring a crush of an indistinct and vexing nature for the person sitting right next to him. He wasn't used to being so close to someone he liked without going in for _something._

"Jimmy... can I ask you something?" Pete piped up about half way through, when Jimmy was almost thinking the moment was about right.

"Sure," he replied.

"Are you okay?" Pete put to him. "You've been a bit... I dunno. Weird."

"Have I been weird?" he asked himself like he needed to voice it. "I don't think so. Maybe it's the heat."

"Uh, yeah," Pete settled. "Maybe it's that." So he wasn't keeping as good a lid on it as he thought he could. He just wasn't accustomed to holding things in.

He could've just come out with the whole thing and stopped pussying around, but then he stood a good chance of so completely weirding Pete out that they stopped being friends, and he'd rather deal with having a crush for a while than end up losing the first honest friend he had in a long damn time.

"Got any plans for later?" he asked, putting on a show of being normal. If Pete was smelling something fishy he needed to be put off before he really got onto the case.

"Dunno, was thinking of going to the pool," Pete remarked vacantly, scribbling his own homework on the edge of Jimmy's desk that'd been allocated to him.

"They opened the pool?" he queried.

"The _school _pool? God no," he scoffed. "I don't wanna die, Jimmy. I go to the one in Bullworth Town sometimes."

"They've got a pool?" He didn't know that. Then again, there were a lot of buildings with no signs that people walked in and out of all the time. He'd assumed the town had a habit for not putting up advertising, or that people were just _real_ friendly in one another's houses.

"It's nothing fancy," Pete excused, "but it's clean, I guess. Mostly it's seniors doing water aerobics."

"What a party," Jimmy joked, and Pete sniggered. At least he could take a joke now. Better than he used to – although it never really was jokes with Gary. That might've been the difference.

"I didn't say you have to come," he pointed out, and only then did Jimmy notice the invitation.

"Did you say I could?" he probed.

"You wanna come swimming?" he suggested with just a hint of scepticism.

"What?" Jimmy demanded.

"I thought you did all your swimming fully clothed in the harbour."

"That was _one _time," he insisted, and Pete just stared him out. Prolonged eye contact was not necessarily Jimmy's strong point at that moment in time. "Okay, a few times." Pete still didn't look away and Jimmy sort of wished he would because it was making him uncomfortable in the wrong kind of ways. "Look, the man wanted his crabs!" he snapped, and Pete burst out laughing.

"Anything for a few bucks, huh Jimmy?" he chuckled.

"I'm not a cash whore," he snapped, feeling his scowl bite at his cheeks.

"I never called you a cash whore," Pete retorted in alarm.

"No, but you said I'd do anything for money." Jimmy wasn't too stupid to miss implications.

"I didn't mean it like _that_," he explained, rolling his eyes, "I just meant it in a... swim in the harbour catching crabs kinda way." Jimmy didn't know if he was being picky or Pete was just doing that thing where he said the wrong words. Probably a bit of both.

"Well, as long as it's not the wrong kind of crabs," he muttered.

"Trust me, I don't wanna know about your crabs," Pete joked, and Jimmy gave him a hurt look. Point one in the minus column. "What?" he added when he realised Jimmy wasn't working, just sitting and frowning. "I didn't mean you _have _crabs!" he flustered.

"I don't have crabs!" he burst.

"I never said you did!" Pete yelled. "I just mean... I mean if you _did _have them, I wouldn't want to know!"

"Look, let's just _leave it_, okay?" Before either of them made even bigger asses out of themselves. Pete turned awkwardly back to his work and started to scribble alarmingly fast. About a half hour later they were done, and Pete got all his things.

"So, I'll see you later, I guess," he said in one ungainly blurt.

"What?" Jimmy bit. "You're notgoin' swimming?"

"No," he responded. "I mean, yes, I am. I thought you didn't-"

"I never said that," he cut in. "It's like a hundred degrees out and I am not built for the heat, Pete. Water sounds great right about now." He went to the closet for his trunks and a towel, throwing them nonchalantly over one shoulder. "Are we ready or what?"

"Sure," Pete answered. "I'll get my stuff and... see you at the entrance?" Jimmy nodded, and off he went.

_Not _a date, he reminded himself as he leant back against the dorm wall. Not a date. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Pete would have to know for it to be a date. Although technically he called that time he and Zoe tipped Burton down a hill in a porta-potty their first date, when she claimed it was no such thing. It was a grey area.

"Jimmy?" Pete had snuck up on him somehow and he jumped.

"What is it with your soft little rabbit feet?" he declared, and Pete furrowed his brow.

"My what?" It did sound a bit weird on the playback.

"Rabbit feet," Jimmy answered. "You move quiet, that's all. Jeesh." He probably didn't need to worry about his crush for much longer if every conversation was as strange and stilted as the last few had been

Then again, he later realised that a trip to the pool meant bathing suits and he had honestly expected Pete to have normal loose shorts like his, but that'd be too easy. Now, while he wasn't exactly in a speedo, the tight fit of square trunks was enough to make Jimmy severely question his sanity in agreeing to this. How he had been dumb enough to think that ignoring a crush was going to be _easy _while Pete was zipping around literally naked except for the low-rise shorts was beyond even him.

"Way to go, Jimmy," he commended himself, overlooking the dimly-lit pool that had a few elderly citizens floating up and down in the slow lanes. The other lengths were empty.

"Ready?" Pete remarked by his side and Jimmy almost jumped out of his skin.

"Why do you keep on _doing _that?!" he burst, voice raising loud enough to get a bored whistle from the life guard.

"Sorry," Pete retracted. "I guess I lurk sometimes."

"Well just, do it in my line of vision," Jimmy advised, and then realised that Pete was going to notice if his eyes were constantly flicking up and down Pete's body. Refreshment. Time for refreshment.

He lined up and launched himself into the water, hitting it a little harder than he expected and it being a _lot _colder than he expected. So it wasn't a heated pool, Pete could've told him _that_. Then again, the harbour wasn't heated either, and they didn't need to get into that crab business again.

He did a few lengths, stopped at one point and saw Pete passing him in the other lane, doing an impeccably neat front crawl and practically gliding through the water. Even if the water wasn't warmer, Jimmy was, so he picked up pace and didn't stop until his arms were aching.

Beaching himself on the ledge of the pool like a whale, he panted and wondered why he thought he was capable of swimming like that for so long.

"Wow, Jimmy, you must've done about fifty lengths!" Pete cheered, and Jimmy jumped enough to let go of the ledge of the pool and dunk himself back in the water. Re-emerging, Pete looked sheepish. "Was I lurking again?" he inquired tentatively.

"Forget about it," Jimmy dismissed. "I'm a bit jumpy lately." Around him. And his swim trunks. "Did you quit already?" he inquired anew, noticing that Pete was perching on the edge with his feet hanging in but was clearly not in the process of swimming, which was surely what he came here to do.

"Taking a break," he replied. "We're not all Jimmy Hopkins, you know." He paused for a moment, swishing his feet back and forth. "Although your technique is kinda messy, if you wanted some tips-"

"You're teaching me how to _swim_ now?" Jimmy seized, perhaps a little prickly. It wasn't often someone half his size and stamina tried to tell him he could improve his _technique_.

"No," Pete denied quickly. "It was just a suggestion."

"First Math, now this," he goaded. "Look at you, Pete. All... hot shit." He clearly hadn't found the phrase that sounded right in that sentence in time.

"I'm what?" he queried. Jimmy decided enough with the talking, that never went well for them anyway.

"Maybe you should _cool off!" _He sprung, grabbing Pete's ankle and then putting his feet on the pool wall and kicking off, near-flinging Pete into the water very almost on top of him. They made a horrific splash and the life guard was soon hyperventilating through his whistle.

"Jimmy!" Pete scolded as he broke the surface. "What was that for?!" Jimmy just cackled, never one to resist a nice pool prank when the opportunity arose. Pete's reception of his laughter could've been better, but it also could've been worse. "Well fine," Pete huffed, splashing water in Jimmy's face. Jimmy retaliated by putting his hands to the top of Pete's head and dunking him, limbs flailing and the life guard was _freaking out_.

"That's enough!" he bellowed as Jimmy let Pete back up, who was somehow scowling _and _smiling. He tried to dunk Jimmy back, but he didn't have the weight for it and just ended up with wet palms on top of Jimmy's shoulders, at which point his chest was ready to inflate and start sirening for emergency evac because it was going to overload. "Behave or leave the pool!" the lifeguard admonished, and Jimmy was suddenly twisting away from Pete and scrambling up the pool wall like a lizard. Too close. Too naked. Too naked _and _close.

"Yessir rightawaysir," he blurted, steamrolling back out to the changing room and sticking himself under a cold shower. He stood with his face to the wall and pressed his forehead to the tiles, cold water cascading off his back. "You're a fuckin' idiot," he told himself. "Get a grip."

"Jimmy!" Pete trotted in after him. "Are you done already? We've only been here like-"

"I don't really feel like it any more," he excused. In fact his arms were aching. "Think I hit it too hard."

"Yeah... maybe," Pete agreed. "Well, I'm gonna stay a bit longer." He stopped himself. "You don't mind, do you?"

"What? No," he shot. "It's not like we're on a date or something." About that point he wondered why he hadn't preventively bitten out his tongue to make sure he didn't say damn revealing stupid things like that.

"Haha, yeah right," Pete scoffed, and for a moment the churning sensation of having butterflies or live ferrets or whatever it was in Jimmy's gut seized up and died, leaving a sharp stab of realisation. It was nothing but a joke to him.

"I'll... see ya around," Jimmy murmured, shutting off the shower and going back to change.


	4. Denial

_4. Denial_

Having accepting that he'd been fooling himself, Jimmy resolved that the best way to get over his ridiculous crush was to simply ignore it. He declared it an unreality, never gonna happen, and the sooner he stopped acting stupid the quicker it'd all be over.

But he _did _still have needs, and figured that maybe he could substitute to deal with his raging emotions. So he went out on the prowl; since confirming his place at the top, it didn't really take much more than a walk around campus to find someone looking to spend some time.

"_Hel_-looooo there." That'd do.

"Hey, you," Jimmy returned. "What's up?"

"Oh, the usual," Gord declared. "Little shopping, buy some homework, High Tea at the club." Jimmy had only made the mistake of thinking that 'High Tea' would be the sort of thing he'd enjoy once, and he only needed to make it once. There wasn't anything remotely high about it, except for attitudes.

"Nice, so, uh... wanna take a walk?" Gord's little sculpted eyebrows lifted.

"And _where _would we walk, Jimmy?" he posed, catting around because he was one of those people that approached the world as some kind of kiss-chase game that he was the master of.

"Around," he said with a shrug.

"Well... they _do _say that it's the journey, not the destination," Gord discussed, as if having some conversation with himself on the side. "All right, James," he consented, stepping up to Jimmy's side. Jimmy had half-expected him to put his arm out for escorting, but he kept them tucked neatly behind his back.

They got about fifteen paces away from Harrington House, heading wherever it was that was good for chatting the shit and making out, but each step had felt heavier than the last in Jimmy's shoes. Gord was chattering on about the rising cost of buying grades these days, and Jimmy knew something was off.

Well, he could just force it on, he decided. He stopped Gord and put a hand on his arm.

"Hey," he started, squaring off with the prep and reminding himself of what he was meant to do. "Come a little closer." Gord arched his ever-expressive eyebrows and leaned forward, bending only at the hip, staring Jimmy out.

"Close enough?" he baited, a smile on his lips. Wrong smile. Wrong lips.

"Ughh!" Jimmy growled, gritting his teeth and throwing up his hands. "It's just not the_ same!"_

"Wh-" Gord had backed off. "What's not the-? Jimmy... Jimmy!" Gord called to his back. "You can't walk away from me!" he was heard to cry as Jimmy did exactly that.

"You're pathetic," Zoe told him, commandeering the spoon.

"You're lucky that it's true, or I'd spank you," Jimmy threatened glumly, ice-cream going warm in his lap as the TV lit up Zoe's place in dingy colours.

"_Spank me_?" she questioned. "I'd like to see you try."

"They won't be able to tell which is top and bottom with you when I'm done," he threatened playfully, lunging over and struggling with her as the ice-cream rolled perilously between them on the couch. She intercepted his attempts to swat at her ass, but the effort didn't carry too far. In time he was resting his chin on her shoulder and sighing.

"What, you can't even mess around with me any more? Zoe posed. "Are you really _that _lovesick, Jimmy?"

"I just... need time," he mooned. "I said something about us not being on a date, an' he laughed it off like it was nothing."

"It _wasn't _a date," she reminded him.

"Coulda been," he countered morosely. "It didn't even occur to him."

"Because you haven't said anything about your massive boner for him," she countered, and he jabbed her in the side. Just because was true didn't mean she could rub it in.

"Well, he clearly doesn't think of me like that," Jimmy lobbied, trying to make it easy for himself.

"I don't believe it," Zoe declared.

"What?"

"You're _giving up_," she slandered. "Jimmy Hopkins, King of Bullworth, beat the best, and now he's giving up because of one little crush."

"I'm not giving up," he argued. "More like... quitting while I'm ahead."

"You're _not _ahead," she told him. "You're wallowing in self-pity and melted ice-cream."

"Well not if you say it like _that_," he retorted.

"You didn't give up when I knocked you back," she reminded him.

"Obviously," he remarked. "You were just playing it cool, an' I knew that. Pete's not playing at _all_."

"So get him in the game," she summarised.

"You think I haven't thought of that?" he retorted. "I'm not stupid."

"Coulda fooled me," she muttered, and he gave her a shove and snatched up the half-abandoned ice-cream, biting down on the spoon as he took a sloppy mouthful.

"Thing is," he murmured through a mouthful of mint choc chip. "What if I get him into it and it's someone else he wants?"

"You're afraid that if you kick-start his engine he might go for someone who's not you?" she gave back to him, and he shrugged. "So you'd rather he was ignorant and sexless than getting with someone else?"

"I didn't say it was _rational_," he excused. Zoe pulled the spoon from him and claimed a scoop for herself, although it was practically soup at this point.

"You're about one step away from slipping notes in his locker," Zoe warned.

"Hey, that might-"

"No," she cut in. "If you did that, I'd have to kill you."

"Why?" he queried.

"For being a _loser!"_ she barked, whacking him on the head with the dirty spoon. He was going to have to try and wash that off later. "Really, Jimmy," she sighed. "Why can't you just _talk _to him?"

"If it were that easy, everyone would be doing it."

"Everyone _is _doing it," she retorted. "If you don't do something, I will."

"You'd go behind my back?" he gasped.

"If I don't you're going to eat all my ice-cream," she argued, snatching the tub back. "And I'll get sick of your lovesick whining and have to kick your fat ass out of my house."

"Oh, bring it," he challenged, and they were back to wrestling again. This time they tumbled to the floor and Jimmy landed on top of the soupy remnants of the ice cream, totally ruining both his shirt and the carpet, though the carpet was fucked already so it was more of a loss on his part.

Play-fighting wasn't going to solve the problem of his crush, but apparently nothing would. He tried everything; listing Pete's faults, checking out other guys (and girls), pornography, telling himself to 'get over it' dozens of times as he lay in bed at night. Nothing worked.

And on the note of being in bed at night, he had a new ordeal to face in that he didn't feel like other people jerking him off, and if he did it himself his thoughts tended to wander.

_'It's easy, Jimmy,'_ he told himself, hand down his pants. _'Just don't think about Pete.'_

Except that not thinking about Pete was kind of thinking about him, and then he had to think of him in order to not think of him, but not not thinking about Pete was just the same as not thinking about him, which was really no different to thinking about him. He was therefore torn between accepting that he wasn't going to be able to jack off without a many-tiered denial ladder of Pete-related thoughts in his head, or not do it at all.

His first attempt was the latter, but after a week he cracked, and felt so crummy about it when he saw Pete the next morning that he had to avoid him for the rest of the day. Couldn't look him in the eye, smirk, and say _'I was thinking about you last night_' in the cheeky, flirty way he might do to pick up anyone else in the world.

Except when he stopped waiting for Pete in the mornings, Pete didn't wait for him. It shouldn't have hurt because he was the one not waiting in the first place but it _did._ He started skipping his last few classes and avoiding him around school, retreating to Blue Skies with a miserable mood more often than not.

He even had to start toning it down around Zoe, or she was going to get sick of him too, and that meant if he really wanted to wallow he'd buy an eighth off Duncan and smoke himself stupid in the Blue Skies hangout feeling sorry for himself. But that was only, like, once or twice a week.

In the end he decided that Pete either didn't care enough to miss him, or didn't really like him as a friend. Maybe he'd only stuck by Jimmy because he was strong and bringing order to the school. He was head boy now, so perhaps he'd gotten what he wanted.

Except to look at him, you couldn't see a conniving mastermind who used people for his own advantage. He said hello to anyone who greeted him; was often observed chatting with the younger kids like he actually had time to listen; and the prefects reported with much confusion that he'd made timetables for being on-duty that both made sense, gave them free time and were easily changed if you just asked him. He was the perfect model of a nice guy and somehow Jimmy found himself resenting it.

He hadn't realised what a bad mood the entire thing was putting him in, until he bumped shoulders with Lucky in the halls one day and figuratively bit his head off, then literally stuffed him in a trash can. The poor Greaser scuttled off with terror in his eyes, and Jimmy realised what he'd done, snapping like a chained dog. This _was _ridiculous, he told himself. He couldn't keep on avoiding Pete and then getting pissed off because he felt like Pete was avoiding him.

So he went to Pete's room after class, hoping that he was on his own – Constantinos had practice doing whatever it was the mascot did while the team played the actual game – and knocked.

"Who is it?" a muffled call from within. Jimmy pushed himself to open the door.

"Hey," he announced, trying not to skulk or seem too guilty. Pete was at his desk and twisted round, half-turned on his chair, face alight.

"Hey Jimmy," he chimed. "What's up?"

"Does somethin' have to be wrong for me to stop by?" he rushed with such defensiveness that Pete's brow furrowed into lines.

"No, of course not," Pete answered, laying his pen on the desk with a characteristic care. He didn't throw his stuff around the same way Jimmy did, and consequently wasn't always losing things. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Jimmy bluffed. Fine as he could be in a perpetually grumpy mood at his own self-inflicted drama, or whatever Zoe had called it. "Haven't seen you around much." He was pretty sure it sounded casual, the way he delivered it; like a school bulletin that would only be read by Beatrice and Mandy.

"I figured you were busy," Pete explained cheerfully. "You can't always have a loser like me trailing round after you, right?" He'd said it like a joke, but Jimmy snapped.

"Hey!" he barked. "That ain't true. I just... uh..." -just been ignoring and avoiding Pete because he had a big, fat crush and didn't know what to do with himself around Pete not to make it obvious or uncomfortable. "Don't talk yourself down," he murmured forlornly.

"Sorry, I was just joking," Pete made up without it really being clear why or if he ought be apologising at all.

"It's not that I don't wanna hang out with you Pete," Jimmy began, eyeing the toes of his sneakers for a moment before looking back up. "It's... complicated." In a simple way.

"I understand," Pete excused genteelly, and Jimmy couldn't take it.

"For god's sake, stop being so _nice _about everything!" he snapped, and Pete looked shocked.

"What?" he retorted, a familiar scowl crossing his face. "Why?!"

"Because I don't know if you mean it, or you're just bein' nice cause that's what you _do_," he ranted.

"Jimmy!" Pete scolded. "I'm not like that, am I?"

"You're nice to _everyone_," he produced, running a little thin on tolerance and patience for the situation.

"So? That's what nice people do," he berated.

"I know," Jimmy bit. "It's just..." How could he tell if Pete actually liked him or just tolerated him, when he was just as friendly to his roommate who was an _utter dick_? These things were starting to matter more in his deranged mind.

"So why're you getting mad at me?" Pete pressed; he could get catty and aggravated with the best of them, when he wanted to. Wasn't being nice to Jimmy any more, that was for sure.

"Because _Ilikeyou_ and I wanna know if you're just puttin' up with it because I'm the new boss around here!" Jimmy burst, and then realised a moment later he'd actually said it. His eyes widened and his heart started to go into arrest in his ribcage, to say nothing of the churning seasickness that'd liquefied his intestines.

"Jimmy! How could you think something like that?" Pete exclaimed, although he was far from his usual etiquette now. "Of course I like you. We're friends, right?" He paused for a moment, moving his chair to face Jimmy fully. "Being king doesn't have anything to do with it."

"So why weren't you bothered when I wasn't around?" he asked dolefully. When he was avoiding Pete, he meant.

"I assumed you had stuff to do, and would show up when you were ready," Pete replied cautiously. "If you wanted to."

"Of course I-!" he started, then recalled his temper on a chain and choked it back into the pen. He could save this, he steeled himself. It could be going worse. At least Pete hadn't commented on-

"Uh, when you said you liked me," Pete interjected, dashing all Jimmy's hopes. No, he was well and truly fucked now. "Did you mean...?" Jimmy shrugged, thinking that the less he said the better, probably. Maybe. Pete wasn't playing to the silent treatment, though. "The way you like, um... Gord, or-"

"No," Jimmy snapped. Gord was fun and easy, but he was as flightly as a moth and about as likely to settle down as Jimmy was. Had been. But then again. "Well, kinda like that," he muttered shamefully.

"I think I'm missing something, Jimmy," Pete paced out. "It almost sounds like-"

"It's what it sounds like!" he erupted. "Pick up a hint already!"

"What?!" Pete yelped, burned by Jimmy's uprising.

"I spent two weeks trying to find out what you were into, but thatwas a big waste of time!" he raved. "Then I was like, _'I can handle this',_ but turns out I can't, so I went off on my own business and it was as if you didn't give a damn. And now you're just being so goddam _nice _that it's doing my head in, 'cause I can't tell if you mean it or if I'm being crazy or what!"

Pete looked stunned, which was understandable given that Jimmy had just yelled the world's crappiest confession at him.

"I think, maybe... you need to calm down?" he offered quizzically. "You seem stressed."

"I'm stressed because you're always _there _and oblivious and-" and stuff like how even when he was yelling Jimmy still felt that sick-anxious twinge of really _liking _someone for no good reason and just wanting them to feel the same way.

"How is this my fault?" Pete protested. "I didn't do anything."

"Not on purpose," Jimmy conceded.

"On _purpose?!"_ Pete echoed almost furiously. "It's not my fault, _especially_ if I wasn't doing anything on purpose!"

"I know, but-" Jimmy pitched in.

"But what?!" Pete cried. "This isn't fair! You're acting crazy."

"Yes!" Jimmy burst. "I know! Because I fucking like you and I don't know what to do!"

"Maybe don't yell at me!" he countered, and Jimmy realised that much more yelling and the whole dorm was going to know what was going on.

It occurred to him that people might already have heard, and if word went around that the new King was hung up on Pete Kowalski and flailing around like a drunk English teacher, his reputation would take a killer blow.

"You know what? Forget I said anything," he announced hastily, backing half-way out the door and looking around. No one was in the hall, which meant he might've gotten away with it. People weren't usually in their rooms at this time of day, more likely in the playground or up in Bullworth Town. They had all evening to spend in their rooms.

"Jimmy-" Pete entreated, but he was already gone.


	5. Anger

_5. Anger_

"Zoe," Jimmy announced as he practically knocked down the door of her place, stormed in and then faceplanted on the couch. "I fucked up."

"What now?" she inquired distantly, hunched over the kitchen counter painting her nails. The air smelt like solvents and frozen pizza.

"I kinda... told Pete," he muffled through the musty couch cushions.

"Uhuh," she prompted, "and how did it go?"

"Pretty bad," he replied. "I kinda yelled at him."

"Figures," Zoe delivered without hurry. "So what exactly did you yell at him for?"

"Mostly being too nice," he confessed, and she gave a sharp laugh. "What?" he snapped. "I can't tell if he likes me, or he's just being nice because he's afraid of me, or because I got him made Head Boy and-"

"Jimmy, it's not like you to think so much into things," she commented, focused on her nails. A bright red that looked familiar for some reason, but not on her. "You should probably stop, it's not a good look," she concluded.

"You're telling me," he grunted, sitting upright and kicking off his shoes. "You got any more ice-cream?"

"After your fat ass ate it all? No." She raised a hand and blew on the nails. "Why don't you just talk to him? Explain it."

"Explain how?" he challenged. "_Sorry Pete, got kinda mad because I fancy you and I'm a goddamn idiot, but hey, I like you so how about we go on a date?"_

"Would it really be so bad?" she posed, and Jimmy knew that it wouldn't really, but he was scared. He didn't like being scared, much less of a twerp in pink shirts who just wanted friends and an easy life. In his world, you got angry before you showed your fear, so no one could tell if you were secretly shitting your pants.

"I try, but as soon as I get one-on-one with him I start screwing up," he explained.

"Ohh, lovesick Jimmy Hopkins," she lauded, sauntering over to the couch and fanning her hands for him. "Whaddya think?"

"Why is that colour so familiar?" he questioned, trailing off as he searched his memory. Then he landed on matching claw-marks across his shoulders that one time and the kitty-cat source. "Lola," he seized. "She wears somethin' like that too." Zoe was giving him a shocked look, one that Jimmy actually recognised. He never claimed to be the brightest tool in the shed, but he had a memory for some things, and people were always surprised when he pulled out trumps. "Why'd you look like you seen a ghost?" he prompted, and Zoe put herself to rights.

"No reason," she deferred, lying through her capped teeth. "She leant it to me, that's all."

"I didn't think you two were friends," he replied easily, and Zoe's head turned like it was on a whip.

"We're not." It came like a slap in the face. Jimmy felt suddenly like he wasn't the only one in denial. "Anyway," she forced the topic onwards. "Pete _is _a nice guy, so if you just explain it, I bet he'll understand."

"He alwaysunderstands, that's half the problem," Jimmy moaned. "I don't want him to be all detached and '_understanding_'."

"What _do_ you want?" she asked, pulling off one of his socks. "Can I paint your toes?" she asked.

"No," he bit. "And I want him... to... I dunno, feel things, insteada just rationalising them."

"C'mon, it'll look pretty," she insisted. "I did mine already."

"So get a job at a nail salon," he retorted. "We were talking about my feelings."

"Pete's feelings," she corrected, propping up his foot and shaking her bottle of guilty nail varnish.

"I thought I told you no," he commented. "Exactly. _His _feelings. He's so nice all the time I don't know what he really thinks." Not like the rest of the heart-sleeved kids at Bullworth.

"Are you going to stop me?" she pointed out, and Jimmy relented to the fact that he wasn't going to. He didn't actually mind in the first place, he was just being uncooperative for the hell of it. "Just because he's nice to everyone doesn't mean he's faking it," she pointed out, applying a first coat to his big toe.

"I know, but I can't tell if he likes me just the same as everyone else," he confessed, and Zoe hummed through her work.

"If you wanna be special, you gotta make it happen," she advised. "Just come clean with him."

"I _did _come clean," he explained. "That's just the fucking problem. I sucked at it."

"So wait it out," she advised. "Give Pete some credit. He's not half as dumb as you."

"Oh _thanks_," he goaded, shaking his foot out so she streaked a big red line up his toe.

"Jimmy!" she scolded, grabbing his ankle with ironlike fingers and vicing him down. "Just give him time. Now you got the hard part out of the way, it can't possibly go any worse."

–

Jimmy had wanted to believe Zoe. Oh, how he'd wanted to believe that. It made perfect sense; he'd awkwardly put his cards on the table, so Pete could take it in, process it, and then he and Jimmy would sort things out again.

But that was resting on a number of things that just weren't going to fly – Jimmy acting rationally where feelings for Pete were concerned, and also, Jimmy not being totally irrational when it came to his feelings for Pete.

So when the knock came at his door along with the follow-up quiver of '_Uh, Jimmy.._.' his hopes weren't necessarily low. They weren't high, but floating somewhere around the middle.

"C'mon in, Pete," he said with as much of a veneer of relaxation as he could hammer down on top of his straight-up _freaking out_ nerves.

"I guess we need to talk," Pete said reluctantly.

"Kinda," he agreed. "Look, I'm sorry for unloading on you." The way you'd unload a shotgun into a deer. Except instead of lead shot he had emotions, though the impact was more or less the same.

"It's okay," Pete insisted, seeming uncomfortable in his own skin. "So you, uh... you said you... _like_ me?"

"Uhuh," he confirmed with half a groan.

"Could you be more specific?" he inquired, and Jimmy clenched his jaw. He could do this. Pete was here, so he wasn't totally freaked out – yet.

"I don't know if I can," he replied. "It was kinda a surprise to me."

"What was?" Pete tracked.

"Liking you," he explained, and saw Pete's face drop. "Not _generally _liking you," he fixed. "I like you already, like, a friend." He realised he was saying the word 'like' too much and it was getting awkward. "Like, I mean, liking you the _other _way... was a bit of a surprise."

"You mean, the way you like... uh." Pete was searching for a name, an example.

"Guys," he substituted. "The way _I_ like dudes. Yes." Pete looked right about like he was going to combust inside his skin. "It doesn't have to be a big thing," he rushed out to explain. "Really, Pete. If you're uncomfortable we'll just drop it." He thought he could do that. Maybe.

"No, it's okay," Pete insisted. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"That makes two of us," he quipped.

"How does that make sense?" Pete called on. "Surely you're aware of your own..." he hesitated, getting smaller, "feelings."

"It ain't that simple," he replied. "You don't just _decide _to get a crush on someone." Jimmy didn't. He could do without all that shit. All _this _shit. "At first I thought I was sick."

"Charming," Pete commented, and Jimmy sighed.

"It's not an _insult_," he said. "It's been a long time since I got a crush, okay? I wasn't prepared."

"What do you mean?" Pete pinned. "You're always going round with people." What kind of lingo 'going round' was meant to be puzzled Jimmy, but that wasn't the point for now.

"That ain't the same," he explained. "You don't have to be crushing on someone to get with them." You didn't really have to like them much at all. All it took was a bit of chemistry. That was how things had been with Gord until he softened up to Jimmy and stopped being a professional stuck-up asshole.

"So you wanna get with... _me_," he mumbled, eyes riveted to his feet. Good thing the door was shut, Jimmy didn't need people poking their heads in on this awkward nightmare.

"No," he rushed. "Well, no, not... I mean, yes, sure, but that's not the main thing," he tried to explain. "It's different."

"Different how? What _do_ you want?" Pete queried, and he was being pretty okay about it so far. As in Jimmy wasn't yelling and Pete wasn't freaking out and no one was running away or climbing out windows.

"I don't know," he confessed. It wasn't really true, because he knew what he wanted. He wanted Pete to feel the same way. But you couldn't tell people to have feelings.

"Well, you've gotta have some idea," Pete prompted. "I mean... you wanna go on a date, or-"

"It's not like that," he interrupted. "I'm not expecting you to do anything." He frowned, rubbing his brow. "I know it's all in my head."

"It's all right," Pete offered out to him, and had now actually looked at Jimmy. With him on the bed and Pete at the door, they were only a couple meters apart. "I mean... if you _wanna_, Jimmy. I don't mind."

In some ways those were words he'd love to hear. But on the other hand.

"You _don't mind?" _he echoed. "Well gee, I'm flattered."

"Hey!" Pete bit back. "I was just saying. I thought you'd _want-"_

"I don't want anyone taking pity on me," he found himself growling. "Even you."

"It's not pity," Pete argued, "I just... you're the one who said you wanted something."

"I said I liked you," he stated. "Not that I want some kinda pity-fuck 'cause you _don't mind_."

"Well good," Pete snapped,"because that's _way _off the cards."

"Good!" Jimmy retorted, scowling.

"If this is what you call having a crush on someone, you've got a funny way of showing it," Pete gibed, and Jimmy grit his teeth.

"It's not," he growled.

"But then apparently I can't even be _nice _to you," Pete continued, throwing up his hands in frustration. "That's me being insincere or patronising you or something."

"It's not like that!" Jimmy snapped, shooting up onto his feet so he wasn't looking up at Pete any more.

"Then what is it like?" Pete threw back at him. "I gotta be honest, this isn't my idea of a good time."

"And it's mine?!" Jimmy realised that tempers were slipping away, but he was never any good at stuffing the fireworks back in the case.

"You're the one getting mad!" Pete accused.

"Because I'm confused!" he raged. "I didn't ask for all these fucking feelings and I don't know what to do-"

"Great," Pete interrupted. "Just _great. _Jimmy Hopkins has some emotions that he doesn't recognise so he gets angry instead. Another normal day at Bullwor-"

It was almost exactly at this point that Jimmy took one long step, raised a fist and punched Pete across the jaw.

"Don't you EVER talk shit about me to my face!" he snarled, heart banging a drum inside his head, his ears ringing like bells.

Then he realised what he'd done. He was so used to fighting he barely thought about it, moved quicker than the electricity in his brain, faster than his words could make up for or excuse anything. He'd punched Pete, who was holding his cheek and just staring at Jimmy like he didn't know who he was.

"Shit," Jimmy said, regret hissing out of him like steam. "I'm sorry. I..." He could've tried to start something, to explain, apologise, try to put things to rights. But then again, he'd just punched Pete Kowalski for the great crime of being nice and interesting and tolerant enough of all Jimmy's bullshit to be liked by him. That was his reward.

So he went for the door instead, moving past Pete like he could put a wall between them; to keep him in, rather than keeping Pete out. He paid no attention to people in the dorm corridors, speeding past and almost running into the front doors.

He burst out into the searing sunshine, drawn like a spotlight on his monumental fuckup, and then broke into a run for the gates. He had to get some space, before he did anything else stupid.


	6. Regret

_6. Regret _

How Zoe knew to find him wasn't something Jimmy was disposed to think about. Maybe she'd just been passing by and saw him sitting on the footbridge over the harbour, looking like he was going to jump in. He hadn't gone very far from school, but off-campus was still off-campus. Perhaps people had seen him running and sent word. He could believe that.

"So," she remarked, slumping down next to him and hanging her feet over, elbows resting on the first crossbar. "It went well."

Jimmy buried his face in his hands, reliving the moment before he explained it. Let him feel the shame once more alone, before he had to share it with someone else's judgement.

"I punched him," he mumbled into his arms, and this time – for the first time, Zoe laughed.

"Jimmy!" she chuckled, like his misfortune was her highest entertainment. Her hand settled between his shoulders, at the base of his neck. "Come on. How hard?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "I was mad." And when he was mad he didn't really have much control. He hoped it wasn't too bad, but Pete wasn't the sort of person built to take any punches. "You said it couldn't get any worse," he remarked like he was accusing her.

"Well, I underestimated you, Jimmy," she half-joked, but still treading carefully. He didn't really like pity, so this was about what he could manage. "Only you possessed the skill fuck it up even more."

"I knooow," he moaned into his wrists, swinging his feet into nothing. "What the hell's wrong with me?"

"Relax," she ordered. "C'mon, Jimmy. It's not so bad."

"I _punched _him!" he burst. "How is that not so bad?"

"You coulda punched him twice," she suggested, trying quite visibly not to burst out laughing again.

"There's time yet," he lamented. Knowing his luck he'd be beating the shit out of Pete and stuffing him in lockers by the end of the week.

"So now what?" she put to him, and he pulled his face out of his arms and sighed.

"I'll lay low, I guess," he sighed. "Doubt he wants to see me any time soon."

"Look," she started up. "Do you want me to go talk to him? I can do some damage control."

"How do you damage control _that?_" he huffed.

"I know you feel like shit – but – and don't take this the wrong way," she said, "but we all know you're a dumbass sometimes."

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Really, Jimmy," she insisted. "Pete knows you're a hothead. I bet he's not as shocked as you think he is."

"For real?" he remarked. "Cause I gotta tell you, I lost my shit."

"He's seen you lose your shit before," she pointed out. "He just probably didn't expect it to happen to him."

"He did say some stuff to set me off," he reasoned. "Not that he had it coming or anything." No, Jimmy was still the asshole here.

"Should I see if I can find him?" she posed. "Just to check if he's all right. Don't even have to talk about it."

"When did you become such a fucking matchmaker?" he questioned crossly, and she gave him a friendly shove.

"Since you became a bleeding heart," she retorted, and he couldn't deny that.

"All right," he conceded. She was going to do what she wanted to do, regardless of whether Jimmy said yay or nay. Might as well agree now. "And you can tell him I'm sorry," he added as Zoe got up and smoothed down her skirt.

"I bet he knows that already, but sure," she conceded, giving him a friendly prod in the ass with her boot. "Don't jump off, okay?" He snorted.

"I'll try," he countered, counting each of Zoe's footsteps as she walked away.

Pete Kowalski was feeling pretty much a dick right about now.

It was still sweat-through-your-clothes hot inside the dorm, so after Jimmy knocked all the marbles out of his head, he got a can of cold beam out of the drinks machine and sat on the steps pressing it to his chin, wondering how he'd managed to get Jimmy Hopkins to punch him in the space of three minutes.

In fairness, Pete was pretty sure he wasn't the only one acting an ass here, but he certainly could've not said that stuff about Jimmy and he'd likely have a face that wasn't throbbing.

"Hey, squirt." That was typical, he thought to himself. Just what he needed now: Jimmy's alter-ego.

"Hi Zoe," he murmured, leaning on his knees and rolling the beam up and down his cheek. "I suppose you know already." She didn't answer right away, just stomped her way up the first step and sat down next to him. Didn't seem to care how much leg she flashed haunching down on the steps next to him, twisting round and putting her hand over his as she pulled the can away from his face, taking in the damage.

She hissed through her teeth and replaced the makeshift cold pack. So it probably looked bad enough. He was currently running lists of acceptable excuses to tell Dr. Crabblesnitch and the other teachers when he showed up with a shiner on Monday morning.

"Look," she began at last. "Jimmy's a fucking idiot sometimes."

"You're telling me," he murmured.

"What did you say to him?" she questioned, and he flicked a glance at her.

"He didn't tell you?" he assumed they shared everything. They always appeared to. That was half the reason he was so surprised by Jimmy's confession, for lack of a better word. He'd thought Zoe and Jimmy were the item. He was meant to be the third wheel.

"No," she insisted, trailing off into a pregnant pause. "You don't have to tell me either," she pointed out conspicuously, and Pete sighed.

"I might've shed a little light on the fact that pretty much every emotion translates into anger for him," he commented, and Zoe's laugh made it seem like this was funny and not the least-fun thing that'd happened to him since Gary finally went down. Here he'd thought the hard part of school life was over.

"Not a great idea to tell someone who's a hothead that they're being a hothead," she remarked, and he shrugged in defeat. He did know that, but Jimmy wasn't the only one whose mouth (or fists) could move faster than they ought to sometimes. "He's really sorry, you know," she added like that could suck the bruise back out of his face.

"If he's so sorry, why'd he do it?" he muttered, and Zoe put her arm around him.

"I know he seems like he's got his shit together, but here's the thing about Jimmy," she revealed like they were coming together in a state secret. "Most of it's an act," she concluded. Not exactly what he'd been expecting to hear.

"Whaddya mean?" he inquired.

"He had to pull it together to save the school," she explained. "He's just a fuckin' kid, like you. People forget that." It was true that people treated Jimmy like he was something more than what he was, as if it was reasonable to ask a teenager to help fix their lives and hand their problems off like old laundry.

"I guess," he said, realising that the beam was really not that cold any more and he was probably overreacting anyway.

"And you know he's got a good heart, even if it's a bit rough around the edges," she continued. He knew that too. Jimmy had never given it to someone who didn't deserve it as long as Pete had known him. He wondered if that meant he'd deserved it too.

"So what?" he prompted, wondering if this was what being set up felt like.

"Don't go too hard on him," she answered. "He's been having a rough time."

"He has?" Pete suggested, as if to ask why, but realised Zoe was staring right at him. "You can't mean because of _me_?" he surmised.

"Haven't you ever had unrequited feelings for someone?" she asked, and he found himself shrugging rather than explaining.

"Not really," he mumbled.

"So everyone's liked you back?" she put to him, and now it was his turn to laugh.

"More like, I've never liked anyone in the first place so it doesn't matter if they like me back," he elaborated. Her eyes widened.

"You've neverhad a crush?" she phrased.

"Not really," he confessed with another shrug. With the pick at Bullworth, it was easy not to get hung up on people. Sometimes he wondered if they could swap everyone at Happy Volts for everyone at Bullworth and see what actually changed, because he didn't think it'd be much.

"So you're... what?" she put to him. "Gay?" He pulled a puzzled face. "Straight?" Same gesture. "Something inbetween?"

"I dunno," he answered with a shrug.

"Do you jerk it?" she demanded suddenly.

"Zoe!" he blasted. This was meant to be a talk about Jimmy, not about his own masturbatory habits.

"I'm gonna assume that means yes," she said, all too sharp for him to cover anything up. He supposed he wouldn't have reacted so badly if he'd nothing to hide. "Anyway, that's not the point," she thankfully moved on. "I'm just telling you, as someone who gave Jimmy a shot before, he's a good guy."

"I know that," Pete sighed. "It's just... it seems so _weird_ sometimes."

"That's probably him," she explained, and he looked up. "People act like dicks when they're hiding a crush," she added.

"_That _was hiding it?" he marvelled.

"I didn't say he was good at it," she countered. "Now, I'm sure he wouldn't like me telling you this, but I'm gonna tell you anyway. He likes you more than anyone else in this damn place, including me, so if you're worried about being next in line of his exes, I wouldn't."

"Even you?" he queried, finding it unbelievable. He thought Jimmy and Zoe loved each other.

"He never punched me," she replied.

"So _that's_ what shows he cares?" he shot. "He likes me _so _much he hit me in the face. How romantic-"

"Can the sarcasm," she snapped, and he remembered all at once that Zoe was just as scary as Jimmy when she wanted to be. "I'm saying he gets irrational," she laid out for him. "Not that it's a good or clever thing, but let's face it, Pete. He's no genius." She shared a smile with him like they were really the best of friends, and he felt torn between wondering if he was being manipulated, and just liking it. Having friends, being talked to, sharing secrets and maybe for once something happening _to _him in his life, not just around him.

"So what do you want me to do?" he questioned.

"I'm not setting you up for anything," she retracted quickly. "I just don't want him beating himself up for the next two weeks on my couch being a pathetic heartbroken loser."

"Yeah right," Pete scoffed, and then realised Zoe wasn't joking. Not with a glare like that. "He'd really-?"

"See? If it's you he likes to much, why am _I _the one putting up with it?" she asked herself helplessly. "Just think about it, Pete. If there's no chance, then tell him and he can get over it like a grown up."

"But I said I'd try," he put forward, and she lifted an eyebrow. News to her, then. "That was when he got mad."

"Why?" she asked.

"He didn't want, uh, a pity-... thing," he fumbled, knowing that curses often sounded more stupid than not when he said them.

"Well _duh_," she retorted, cuffing him round the back of the head. "He wants you to _actually_ like him, not just be humouring him because you don't feel strongly either way."

"But I _don't _feel strongly!" he protested. "I just figured it'd be okay if it made him happy."

"So you do like him," she deduced.

"Of course," he confirmed. "He's done so much for the school, he did so much for _me_. Of courseI like him," he trailed off, feeling distinctly less comfortable than he had moments prior. "I just don't know about... _that _kind of like."

Zoe had her chin propped on a closed fist, and let off a great heave of breath like she was exhausted with all of this.

"You know what I think?" she announced, and he was going to hear it anyway. "I think you oughta give him a chance."

"I tried to," he burst. "He punched me in the face!"

"Yeah, okay," she agreed. "He probably won't do it again, though."

"Probably?" he echoed.

"I dunno, squirt," she jeered. "You can say some provocative shit sometimes." That wasn't entirely untrue. He just never said most of the stuff he thought because he liked not being beaten up – and look how far it'd gotten him now. "Point is, you two _clearly _need to go sort somethin' out," she continued obliviously.

"I can try," he relented, actually feeling slightly better about the whole thing, to his surprise. Taking to Zoe about what went on in Jimmy's head had made things seem clearer.

"Attaboy," she commended, getting up from the steps and sweeping sweat from the back of her neck. She and Jimmy did seem to be suffering more in the heat, with their fair complexion and red hair, which he didn't envy. "You gonna drink that?" she asked, gesturing at his tepid Beam.

"Not really," he answered, offering it up to her. "So, you think I should try talking to him again?" he suggested, as she cracked the tab and slurped down some lukewarm soda.

"Give it a bit of time," she advised, "but not too long. He's less fun when he's moping and sorry-for-himself."

Pete almost didn't believe he had that kind of impact on Jimmy. He wouldn't have believed it until a day or two ago. He used to think he was perceptive, but that only seemed to be for things that didn't concern him.

"All right," he said in way of a farewell. Zoe surely had better things to be doing than relationship counselling for him and Jimmy. Not that they were in a relationship. "Thanks for... uh, this."

Helping? Persuading Pete that Jimmy really did _like-like _him and that being punched in the face shouldn't be taken as an insult but an expression of passion? Pete wasn't really sure where he was going with his life any more – first Head Boy drops into his lap, now this.

He had a whole weekend, and a lot to think about.


	7. Acceptance

_7. Acceptance _

Zoe had told Jimmy, in no uncertain terms, to '_sit his ass down and be patient_' on the subject of Pete. Except patience and waiting weren't really his strong points. It was actually excruciating, so by the time Pete knocked on his door Sunday evening, he was relieved more than anything else, regardless of what he was about to say. He'd been distracting himself with stupid errands all weekend, so Pete was half-lucky he was even there when he called out for him.

"Hi Jimmy," he announced, hooking his head around the door following his knock. "Are you busy?" Jimmy instructed his gut to calm the hell down and sat up on his bed.

"Nope," he said, inviting Pete through with a jerk of his head. "Guess we'll give this another shot." He had to go and name it, which seemed to make Pete less comfortable.

"Yeah..." he drawled, shuffling in and shutting the door firmly in his wake.

"Sorry about smacking you one," Jimmy put out there before they got any further. He'd probably apologised enough, but you could never be too careful. Pete did still have a discoloured patch on his chin from where Jimmy's fist had connected with it.

"It's okay," Pete said, and it might not have been, but there was no doing about that now. He leaned back on the wall opposite Jimmy and scuffed his shoes. "So..."

"So," Jimmy echoed, wincing. "Awkward, eh?"

"Little bit," Pete murmured.

"My bad," Jimmy excused. "I didn't wanna fuck things up."

"They don't have to be... screwed up," he echoed more politely. "I still mean the thing I said before. Just, if you can _not_ take it the wrong way this time."

"Which was what?" he prompted, trying to wire calm back into his shoulders. It felt like he was swallowing up his own neck.

"That I'm... _okay_... with, you know, the idea of it," Pete breached awkwardly.

"Idea of _what_?" Jimmy posed. Some luck they were going to have if Pete couldn't even talk about 'them' as anything more than vague implications.

"Us being something... more than friends, I guess?" he said, tripping over himself to get words behind him. It wasn't easy going on either of them.

"You're not gay," Jimmy said. It didn't need to be a question.

"No," Pete confirmed.

"So, this is pointless," Jimmy suggested.

"No," he repeated. "Just because I'm not _gay _doesn't..._ w_ait, what I mean is, it's not just guys. It's not guys at all... I mean... you're not anyone – I know you, and that's why it's okay," he laboriously explained.

"Are you saying... I'm an exception?" Jimmy phrased for him, trying to translate Pete's vague ramblings into something that made sense in his own head. Potentially in Pete's too.

"Maybe," Pete conceded.

"If you're not sure, that's as good as a no," he delivered. "We should forget-"

"_No_," Pete interjected. "I am unsure, but that's about everything, Jimmy. I'm not sure about a damn thing. It's normal for me."

"So what?" he invited.

"So, I might get more sure, but it means giving whatever... whatever it is you wanna do, a try." Pete was staggering between thoughts like he'd taken a bullet to the foot, but this was the best it was going to get.

"Are you saying," Jimmy began. "That we can go on a date, and see how you feel?"

"Basically," he concurred, looking down at his feet just as Jimmy stood up.

"All right," he declared, feeling a rush of encouragement, or hope. Something that wasn't frustration and pessimism at least. This was his area, much moreso than all the shit they'd gone through up until now. "So let's go."

"What?!" Pete blurted. "Now?"

"Why not?" he retorted, strolling to the cupboard and pulling out a hoodie. It still wasn't that warm when the sun was down, not with a seafront wind kicking.

"It's a bit short notice," Pete commented, and Jimmy snorted.

"So what?" he goaded. "Am I supposed to send you a letter first? C'mon. It'll be fun."

"We have school tomorrow morning," he protested, and Jimmy was showing him a carefree grin of the kind he hadn't worn in a while.

"That's why it's fun," he said. "Curfew's not for ages. What's stopping you?"

"Uh..." Jimmy had him there. Even if they weren't skipping out on curfew, which they easily could, there was plenty of time. Jimmy slammed the cupboard shut, offering Pete a challenge.

"Now or never, Pete," he baited, and was kind of pleased to see the surprise register.

"What?" he exclaimed. "You're giving _ultimatums_ now?" Pete questioned, and Jimmy simply shrugged. "I thought you spent the better part of a month working up to this."

"Yeah," he confirmed. "So I don't exactly wanna wait around, do I?"

"What if I... well..." Pete was clearly running through his options, and then gave a huff of exasperation and crossed his arms over his chest. "All right," he relented.

"Don't think about it too much," Jimmy advised. That'd been his downfall, or near enough. "I got this." He opened his door and beckoned Pete out after him.

"Where are we going?" Pete inquired half-way across the campus, looking like the direction of the parking lot.

"The abandoned bus," Jimmy answered coolly. "No one'll see us in there."

"See us doing what?!" he erupted, and Jimmy gave him a serious look.

"I _always_ have my first dates there," he insisted, and Pete's face was dropping like a sack of the canteen's 'authentic' actual rocks rock cakes.

"Jimmy... I-" he began, at which point Jimmy burst out laughing and gave him a friendly shove.

"I'm _messing _with you!" he cackled. "We're going to the garage to get some _bikes_, christ, Pete. You looked like you were gonna pull a runner."

"I was thinking about it," he confessed, still a bit shell-shocked. "And that's not funny," he added somewhat pathetically late.

"It's quite funny," Jimmy commented with a smirk. "I was planning on the funfair. That all right with you?"

"Uh, sure," he answered, taking the bike that was rolled at him and pedalling alongside Jimmy all the way into Bullworth Vale. He almost managed to keep up.

When they got to the gates, the only thing that seemed remotely date-like about the scenario was that Jimmy pulled out a wad of dollars to pay for both their entrance, but then, Jimmy had treated him before, so even that wasn't out of the way.

The funfair was always crowded at the weekend with students and non- alike, and though Pete looked a little at odd with himself, to look at them no one would think it was a date. Which Jimmy didn't mind, as he was always most comfortable with low-key affairs. Too much hoity-toity crap and romantic obligation put him off. Also he'd prefer if the rumour mill kept its mouth shut awhile. Then if this crashed and burned no one had to know about it.

They played a few games, the damn baseball arcade robbing him as usual, then moved towards the back with the rides. Pete hadn't really said anything so far, though Jimmy didn't have to be a genius to sense his reservations. Jimmy reminded himself to stay relaxed and headed for the next attraction on his list.

"The Haunted House, Jimmy?" Pete pestered. "Really?"

"What, are you scared?" he baited, half-way into the entrance. "Don't worry, I'll hold your hand." At that Pete was quiet once more, which could be good or bad, but Jimmy stuck with his gut and trusted it to tell him if things were going wrong. He'd probably notice if he was hitting Pete in the face again.

The ghost house was on the whole pretty terrible, but that wasn't the appeal of it; mostly it was used by couples to find a dark corner or by younger kids for some semi-realistic scares. Maybe Pete thought Jimmy was expecting the first and that was why he looked so concerned, though Jimmy had other ideas.

They sped through most of it, beeline for a specific corner where Jimmy suddenly grabbed Pete's forearm and pulled him aside.

"This way," he instructed quietly, squeezing behind an oversized gravestone. Pete was tense, like this was the jump down his throat he'd been waiting for, but then Jimmy let go and started two rungs up on the ladder.

"Jimmy!" he hissed. "That's off-limits."

"Y'don't say," he scorned. "I've been here before, it's fun." Pete clearly wasn't sure, but that was nothing new so Jimmy didn't pay it much heed. He bit down on his doubts and started climbing, hoping Pete would follow.

Up on the walkways he could oversee the whole floorplan, light footsteps heralding Pete behind him. It'd worked, then.

"Now what?" Pete questioned dryly, the answer arriving as Jimmy pulled a roll of firecrackers out of his back pocket, raising them up with a grin. "You _wouldn't_," he declared as if in a state of shock.

"Watch me," he retorted. "This way, there's a good spot along here." Treading carefully, he lead the way and took sentry over a section right in the middle. He sat down on the edge of the walkway and hung his boots off the edge, while Pete copied him, legs crossed instead. For a while no one passed bar a cluster of kids, but then whatever force wanted to get Jimmy laid stuck its hand in the mix and just made their day.

"This is so _lame_," someone declared in a characteristic football-drawl; Jimmy recognised the tone. He grinned and looked at Pete, whose face echoed the same understanding.

"I'm telling you, it's funny," Casey insisted to Luis and Bo, leading them into position and gesturing behind some of the cutouts. "You hide in there and jump out when someone walks past." Jimmy had already pulled out a lighter and separated a firecracker, which he tried to pass over to Pete.

"Me?" he whispered as the tools were thrust at him. "I'm not gonna do it, Jimmy."

"Sure you are," he countered. "Don't you wanna get even?"

"Well..." Of course he did. He wasn't going to lie to Jimmy's face about it, even if he didn't feel like admitting it for some reason. "You do it," he tried.

"No, _you _do it," Jimmy insisted. "It'll feel good." Pete was still hesitating, so Jimmy took push to shove and reached over for one of his hands, plying their fingers together in a way he needed to not think about too much or he'd be back to tripping over his tongue every other word.

He put the firecracker in Pete's hand and took the lighter with the other, Pete actually letting him do it – maybe curiosity, hopefully something better – as Jimmy lit the fuse and pulled back, leaving Pete with a sizzling cracker, which for a scary moment he just looked at.

"You wanna keep your fingers!" Jimmy snapped. "Throw it!" Earth connected to Pete spontaneously and he hurled the banger down, landing a little way from the jocks who were arguing about who could fit under one comically oversized tombstone.

It wasn't close, but the banger went off at such a time as to shock Casey enough to jump so high he broke the whole board in half, by which point Jimmy had another one lit and this time the targeting was better. The explosions sent the Jocks running in confused fear, leaving only a smile on Pete's face.

"Told you so," Jimmy lauded.

"What?"

"That it'd feel good," he lured, leaning over just enough to bump Pete's shoulder with his.

"I'm Head Boy," he said lamely. "I shouldn't be doing this sort of thing."

"That's _why_ it feels good," Jimmy insisted, meaning to sound like a bit of a flirt. He didn't want Pete to totally forget what they were on. "Wanna wait for more?"

"I'm all right," he excused. They weren't going to do better than a plate of get-your-own-back, it was true. "I've probably had enough mindless mayhem for a night."

"Aaaw," Jimmy lamented. "I wanted to throw eggs at people on the roller coaster."

"Jimmy!" he scolded, and there was something fundamentally enjoyable about hearing Pete name him, even if it was meant to be in indignation. "No," he insisted more firmly, getting up and laying his hands on the railing, peering down at the burned spots where the firecrackers had gone off.

"Fiiiiine," Jimmy moaned, but actually, he didn't mind. They slipped back out and played a few more games, Jimmy acquiring enough tickets for another dumb poster for his room because Pete said under no circumstances was he going to wear clown shoes. On the plus side, he had enough left over for a bucket of candy the size of his head.

"I won't have to eat at the canteen for like, a week with this," he declared cheerfully, swinging it back and forth as they strolled around aimlessly.

"You can try," Pete remarked, "but it'll probably make you sick."

"And the canteen _doesn't?" _he posed.

"Oh... fair point," Pete conceded, unwrapping a candy drumstick and chewing on it in one corner of his mouth. Jimmy made special attention not to stare too obviously.

"Say, Jimmy," he started up again a shooting-gallery-game later. "Is this really a date?" Jimmy glanced around but there wasn't anyone paying much attention to them. Pete probably knew that already, which was why he dared to bring it up.

"Why'd you ask?" he said, calmly raising the air rifle again and watching out for that sneaky sheriff badge.

"I mean, it just seems like... normal," he commented. He'd relaxed for one, so no wonder.

"What were you expecting?" he countered. "Red roses and chocolates?" Pete laughed, which was another good sign, and kept on chewing on his drumstick.

"Dunno," he admitted, leaning back on the console and watching the students who milled around aimlessly. Everyone had done everything a hundred times or more in this place, but they didn't have much else to do.

"Here's the thing," Jimmy explained, lowering the gun and ripping his tickets out of the machine. "Only difference I see between hangin' out with friends and a date is whether I'm in with a chance."

"Chance of what?" Pete foolishly inquired, and Jimmy flashed an easily recognisable look, miming a pout that didn't leave much to imagination. "Oh."

"So," he continued, "you tell me what it is."

"Right," Pete murmured, eyes up at the sky for some reason. Like the rest, it could be good or bad, but Jimmy was quietly hopeful at this point. Neither of them were yelling, which was better than some of his predictions at this point. "It's... uh," Pete began quietly, but then Angie and Christy swooped past chattering loudly and he dropped it. "I'll tell you later."

"Keeping me hanging?" Jimmy taunted. "You're lucky I don't mind a tease." He snorted and gave Pete another friendly shove.

"Jimmy," he berated, but as long as he kept on saying his name every few minutes, he was going to stay happy.

However, the night did need to come to an end, and when there really was nothing else to do, they worked at an amble towards the entrance without really talking about it.

"So," Jimmy intruded on the quiet as they pushed through the gates. Had to admit the horse was dead sooner or later.

"So?" Pete echoed, perhaps deliberately missing the point rather than get into the awkward stuff again.

"You said you'd have an answer for me," Jimmy prompted, leaning against the fence where they'd left the bikes and blowing bubbles in his gum.

"I... uh," Pete mumbled. "What was the question again?" Jimmy snorted. Some delay tactics he had.

"Whether we just hung out as friends or the other one," he said, missing the word 'date' on purpose. Partly to be implicit, but also because he was doing pretty well at being smooth and he didn't need his stupid emotions messing things up by getting worked up over words like _dating_.

"Do I have to answer now?" Pete queried, and Jimmy raised his eyebrows.

"What, you want to just leave it unanswered?" he pointed out. Not knowing wouldn't be _that_ much worse than knowing – if knowing meant knowing that they were only ever going to be friends and he had some crushing disappointment to swallow. If he was in with a shot, he wanted to know about it.

"What if I'm not sure yet?" Pete said uncomfortably, and Jimmy caught himself sighing. He was going to have to help him out here, so he reached out and with his thumb and forefinger pinched the front of Pete's shirt, a button under his finger, then he wound his arm back like reeling in fishing line.

Pete's face was blank, but Jimmy was starting to suspect that was what he did when there was a lot going on inside. He stopped tugging him in before they were too close, because this was only a test. Anyone else and he might've gone the whole way and tried for the kiss, but with Pete it seemed too fast. He really didn't want to freak him out on their first time out. So he stopped and kept on watching, Pete returning the gaze just as intensely.

"So," Jimmy declared, releasing the grasp. "Got a better idea yet?"

"Of..." Pete murmured.

"Of which it is," he snapped. He wasn't going to do this in an endless loop like they were a glitched video game, but he managed to hold his temper, just.

"I guess it's a..." Pete began, swallowed, then continued, "...the other one." Jimmy dared to grin, thumping in his chest informing him that this was a pretty big deal.

"Okay," he replied, forcing his tone flat and keeping his smile semi-normal. "Great."

Pete had his eyes on the ground now, scuffing his shoes into the dirt like he couldn't bear to relax in his own skin. Except Jimmy wasn't quite done. He had one last question.

"So... we could do it again?" he suggested, chewing his heart in the corner of his mouth.

Pete glanced up, shoulders up by his ears, and nodded without words to accompany.

"Awesome," Jimmy breathed, feeling like he'd won the world on a plate. The hard part was over now.

Right?


	8. Bargaining

_8. Bargaining _

It was a whole week until Jimmy had enough time to even think about re-visiting the 'date' scenario with Pete, as classes had an irritating habit of getting in the way of his love life. While frustrating, he consoled himself with the affirmation that Pete had apparently felt enough of whatever it was he needed to feel to carry on with the experiment in the first place. So that was something.

All through the week he'd been nothing but friendly, not even pushing it far enough to flirt. Partly because there had to be something that set _dates_ apart from everything else, but also because he kept bottling it at the last minute. Someone would walk by or Pete would say the wrong thing and the moment would pass. In truth, he was also concerned with overdoing it and putting him off, because this wasn't something he felt like he was going to get second chances at.

"So," he opened the subject in the last lessons of Friday day. "What're we doing this weekend?"

"We?" Pete echoed. "Are we doing something?"

"Well I _thought_," Jimmy indicated, voice low so they could talk without notice at the back of the classroom. "Last week wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Oh, no," Pete replied. "I just... you didn't say anything."

"I'm saying something now," he pointed out. "This is me saying it, Pete."

"Oh... yeah," he murmured lamely. "Yeah. Okay."

"So...?" Jimmy prompted.

"Uh?" Pete responded. They were going round in circles.

"Are we doing something?!" he hissed, and Dr. Slawter _shushed_ them from the front of the room.

"Sure," Pete answered at last, barely above a whisper. "If you wanna."

"That's kinda a dumb question," Jimmy pointed out. He didn't harbour massive inconvenient crushes and then not want to spend any time with said clueless object of his affections.

"What?" Pete spat. "It's-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kowalski, is my lesson _disruptive_ to you?" Dr. Slawter inquired from the front desk obnoxiously. Pete bit his lip, scowled at Jimmy and pulled himself upright, rather than hunched over trying to be obscured behind Troy.

"No, sir," Pete answered dutifully, eyeing Jimmy like it was _his _fault. If he'd just answered the question at the beginning instead of playing silly buggers then he wouldn't have still been going on now. "We'll talk about this later," he whispered to Jimmy, settling back into his work as Jimmy sighed.

Even when Saturday arrived they hadn't actually worked out a damn thing. Mostly because Pete had said he had homework and then spent the rest of the night sitting in Crabblesnitch's office doing whatever menial stuff Head Boys had been meant to do for generations and hadn't. Where Pete found out what all these duties were was a surprise even to the Headmaster apparently.

That was why Jimmy resorted to going Saturday morning to Pete's room and waking up the ever-miserable Constantinos with his knocking.

"Just _typical_," the grumpy bastard moaned as Jimmy opened the door, turning over in bed and putting a pillow over his head. Pete was already up, sitting almost entirely inside his window frame reading a book. Ostensibly Jimmy knew that he was sitting there because it was light and he was trying not to wake Constantinos because he wasn't an inconveniencing ass like most of the people in this school. In fact, in the Bullies' room you were lucky to wake up without someone screaming in your ear or covering you in itching powder. Come to think of it, that was probably why Trent liked 'sleepovers' so much, except then Jimmy was the one getting woken up with pranks.

So, practically speaking, Jimmy knew why Pete was sitting in his open window-frame like a cat getting early sunshine, but that didn't at all change exactly how striking it was. Head tilted forward into the pages, the back of his neck picked up a stripe of sunshine and shadow. His knees were aired in shorts, bare feet crossed over one another as he rested the book against his legs, expression raw for the moment Jimmy was watching before he looked up.

"Hey Jimmy," he chimed, and Jimmy had thought he was past the part where his heart crawled up into the middle of his throat and sat there pumping like a fucking maniac. Apparently not.

"Uh," he grunted in an alarmingly hoarse, strangled fashion. He coughed, shook his head and reminded himself not to be so stupid. "Hey," he struggled. "You ready?"

"Sure," Pete answered, flipping the book closed and swivelling off the ledge, leaving the tome on his desk as he slipped on a set of beat-up leather sandals. The weather was still trying to kill them all, Jimmy unable to bear anything more than board shorts and a vest. He'd have gone totally shirtless if he didn't think it might weird Pete out. Then again, before he'd have ripped it off without a second thought and no weird feelings would've been had by anyone. He'd see how the day played out on that front.

Constantinos was groaning dramatically into his pillow as Pete strolled past, who was smiling in Jimmy's direction like hell, maybe things were gonna work out all right.

"So, what're we gonna do?" Pete asked as they paced side-by-side down the hall, not so many people up at this time. He and Pete both rose earlier than the usual fare, which was probably one reason they'd ended up hanging out so much, giving Jimmy the ridiculous crush in the first place.

"Dunno," Jimmy replied easily.

"Well, I mean, is it gonna be... you know," Pete said awkwardly, looking around and waiting until they were out the doors to resume. "Just... friends... or."

"It's whatever you want," he stated without nerves. Call him Mr. Cool. "First of all, we gotta find something to _do_." They had a whole weekend to kill.

"They're having a big bike race in the Vale again," Pete suggested, and Jimmy was pulled all the way back to the first trophy he'd won. Hadn't Pete been there cheering him on? He couldn't remember, not with the shit that happened afterwards.

"Why not?" he declared boldly. "Bike race it is." They went for the garages, then to the Vale at a leisurely pace – Jimmy didn't want to burn up all his energy before they were at the starting line.

They were a little early in the end, but the beach was busy enough with people sunbathing and swimming. Why they held a bike race on a half-sand track was beyond Jimmy, it was a bastard to cycle on. Or maybe that was the idea.

They dumped the bikes and picked a stretch of sand. Jimmy could feel his shoulders sizzling, but he didn't have any suncream, and also didn't fancy trying to broach asking Pete to do his back for him just yet. He'd save that one for a better time.

"Aren't you gonna burn?" Pete asked entirely too adeptly. Just because he had concern and cared about people and stuff.

"Eh," Jimmy said with a shrug. "Can't be helped."

"You don't have any-"

"Nope," he interrupted. "It's fine. Burn now an' I'll get used to it later." He'd freckle up and maybe even a shade of colour in time, but the lobstering stage was inevitable. He was sweating something awful though. At this rate he'd be out for the count by the time the race even started.

"D'y want my shirt?" Pete offered like a lightning strike out of sheer blue skies, and Jimmy might've believed he already _had _heatstroke.

"What?" he retorted.

"You can use it for some shade," he elaborated.

"No, Pete, I can't-" he started.

"It's fine," he interrupted, and then before Jimmy could decide if this was reality or a heat-induced fantasy sequence, Pete had the back of his t-shirt in hand and slipped out of it like he was shedding. He then actually threw the shirt across at Jimmy, catching him half-across the face. "You can't win the big race if you fry now," he rationalised, and Jimmy was still in the process of staring open-mouthed and wondering what, why and since when did Pete just go ripping off his clothes and throwing them at people.

That said, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen Pete in much less, given the swimming incident, and they _were _on the beach where half the town were out in swimsuits. Maybe Pete did want to work on his tan... and maybe Jimmy should avoid staring at his torso and arms and stomach and thinking about that sorta stuff. Except they'd gone to the pool before things like dates and there being some kinda shot at things happening, so it was easier not to be a letch.

However, he did drape the shirt over his head and shoulders, grateful to get the sun off, and also for the fact that it smelled like him and he could get away with being creepy like that without anyone noticing.

"Thanks," Jimmy offered lamely while Pete tested the sand behind him, then lay back with hands tucked behind his head. Jimmy reminded himself that he needed to breathe in and out and swallow before he choked on his own spit. Preferably not at the same time. "Workin' on that tan, then?" he added after a little pause in which he re-taught himself to think normal thoughts.

"Eeh," Pete murmured. "Might as well. My mom loves to fuss if I'm too pale by the time I go home."

"Why?" he scoffed. He didn't recall his mom ever once paying attention to something like that.

"Because she thinks it means I'm spending too much time indoors," he answered amenably. "You know, the whole 'get outside and exercise' thing." Jimmy wouldn't know personally, as he was more often out than not, but he could imagine a quiet type like Pete needing to be kicked out into the real world sometimes.

"When's this damn race starting anyway?" Jimmy picked up, wondering if Pete would be annoyed if Jimmy used his t-shirt as a face mop. Pete sat up and held a hand over his eyes, shading them as he winced in the direction of the setup.

"Looks like they're getting ready," he commented. "Not too long now."

"I better prepare," Jimmy declared, getting up and pulling the shirt off, which he offered back to Pete a little damper than it'd started. He'd been the one to throw it at Jimmy in the first place, so it was his problem now.

"Prepare what?" Pete echoed, taking the shirt back and dumping it over his shoulders rather than putting it on. He wasn't the only one who could strip off. Jimmy had already gotten rid of his shoes, but he peeled off his tank and tossed it down. He didn't know what was running through Pete's head as he watched, but he hoped it was at least on the scale of what his little stunt had done to Jimmy.

Then he launched into a sprint for the shore and threw himself into the water with a clumsy dive, the cold ripping discomfort and sweat from his skin like a breath of fresh air. He resurfaced with a messy gasp and stomped back out, feeling far cooler and ready to kick some ass.

"_That's_ what you meant," Pete remarked, and Jimmy stuck out a hand.

"Shirt me," he demanded. Pete wore a halfsized smile as he threw Jimmy's top back at him, which he shook off for sand and wrapped around his head. His hair was grown out enough that he wasn't going to burn his scalp, but he could still use the shade, especially if he was biking full-throttle in midday sun.

"Stylish," Pete baited, and Jimmy resisted the urge to kick sand all over him.

"You're lucky I like you," he commented obscurely, flipping sand only over Pete's foot, whose confused snigger was just as satisfying. Then it got a little stagnant, because Pete wasn't at the stage of saying it back and that made it slightly awkward. "Uh, you got any money?" Jimmy asked abruptly, changing topic before they dwelled too long and got all weird again. He was enjoying himself to ruin it too much remembering just how damn stupid into Pete he was.

"A bit," he answered reservedly. "Why?"

"Bet it on me," he declared, and Pete pulled a face. "What?!" he goaded. "Don't you believe in me?"

"I'm not really a gambler," he excused, and Jimmy shovelled more sand with his foot, burying one of Pete's.

"So?" he challenged. "You'll make it back." And then some, hopefully.

"What if you don't win?" he suggested.

"How _dare _you!" he cried in mock-anger. "I'm the _King_, Pete. King! Of course I'm gonna win." Not to mention anyone fast enough to beat him would get a fist into their bike-riding face.

"Hey, all right," Pete defended, raising up his hands. "Sure you are. You've got a crown and everythin-" his voice cracked and he outright giggled.

"Kings don't lose," Jimmy insisted.

"I'm sure they don't," Pete patronised, so Jimmy scooped up more sand and scattered it further over him. "Hey," he protested.

"That's for bein' a smartass," he said decisively. "Now. I don't wanna hear any more of this '_not gonna win_' talk, okay?"

"All right, your h_igh_ness," Pete agreed, clearly trying to hold it together.

"And you'll put all the cash you've got on me to win?" he added, and there Pete pulled away again.

"Jimmy," he bemoaned in just the right way.

"Do it," he ordered. "If for some reason I don't win, I'll pay you back." Pete wasn't really that tight-fisted, but it seemed enough to push him over the line.

"Fine," he sighed, getting up and trying to dust sand off himself somewhat unsuccessfully. There was a crowd gathering around the starting line, so Jimmy fetched his chosen bike and started to wheel it over. "But you better cycle good," he added as if Jimmy had been previously considering doing nothing of the sort. Jimmy smirked and gave him a salute.

"Aye-aye," he barked sarcastically, settling his place in the line-up and watching Pete work his way through the crowds.

They readied to go, one leg thrown over the crossbar and a foot on the pedal. Pete's face still stuck out amongst the others. Just before the starting whistle blew, he locked eyes with Pete and winked, but was too fast off the block to see what the impact was. It was probably better that way.


	9. Instigation

9. Instigation

Now, of course Jimmy won the race. And of course Pete found someone to take a bet on whether Jimmy would win it or not and doubled their money. So it made perfectly good sense to go to the Yum Yum Market and buy a bunch of unhealthy food, walk by the drive-thru for dinner and then retire to Jimmy's Beach House to feast their success.

_If _he could get the door open.

"What the heck is this place?" Pete questioned, almost irate, as Jimmy dug a bit of scrap metal into the doorframe in lieu of a key.

"The damn wood's swelled," he grumbled, answering another question entirely. "It's my hideout."

"Right," Pete remarked sceptically. "Which you got... how?"

"I won it in a boxing match," he answered cattily. "Boxed out half the preps an' they said I could have this because the holiday home in the Vale was too good for me or somethin'."

"That doesn't sound like much of a legal exchange," Pete felt obliged to comment, and Jimmy gave a huff.

"What does it matter?" he snapped, digging the tool back into the frame. "Oh, fuck this!" he declared at last, taking a step back and putting a full-force kick into the door, which splintered open with a horrible shriek. The salty air might've corroded the hinges some.

"Nice," Pete asided just a little too haughtily, and Jimmy whipped round.

"Don't you start!" he barked, then realised he was snapping and took a breath. "Sorry," he delivered with a roll of his eyes. Pete could be a little too smarmy for his own good sometimes. "If you wanna go back to scho-" he began, but Pete was already walking in.

"Wow, this place is actually kind of cool," he announced as he paced through, looking around at the decayed grandeur of the beach house. Jimmy's temper had just rolled off his back this time, which was a good thing if there ever were one.

"I told you!" Jimmy burst, and Pete had the nerve to turn around and give Jimmy an acrid look. "Fiiine," he dismissed with another roll of his eyes, following Pete in and shoving the door as shut as it was likely to ever go again.

He dumped their spoils on an abused card table and took a seat, digging out a burger and awarding himself a much-awaited bite. The sun gave him an appetite, to say nothing of the damn bike race he fought tooth and nail to win... literally. He'd probably chipped a tooth taking a smack to the face while speeding downhill at 20mph.

Pete joined him and for a moment there was quiet while they mutually stuffed their faces. The fast food wasn't exactly _not _made of feet and tails, but at least they'd only died once, compared to the school canteen's version of reanimated matter.

"So was this a date or not?" Pete suddenly sprung on Jimmy half way through his fries, and he almost inhaled one, coughing it back up and drowning the shock in soda.

"Why'd you care all of a sudden?" he asked hoarsly. "You got an issue if it was?" Maybe he was getting cold feet.

"No, I just-" Pete hesitated. "I can't always tell."

"Does it have to be that clear?" he responded. In fact, he wouldn't mind a bit of distinction himself, but it was hard to draw a line and he sometimes thought of going flirty then had second thoughts and backed off at the last minute.

"I wouldn't mind," Pete answered wryly, around which point Jimmy threw a fry at him. "Hey!" he scolded, throwing one back. Jimmy dipped one in ketchup and lobbed that, missing Pete narrowly. "Jimmy!" he preached, and it was distraction, but it was working. Better than struggling through awkwardness again.

Soon they were into an all-out war, with most of the fries ending up wasted on the floor, but it wasn't like this place was fancy enough for anyone to give a shit. Jimmy imagined that the seagulls would be in to clear up as soon as they left.

Pete was smiling, laughing, and doing the things that came naturally to him that made Jimmy sort of want to fall down on the floor and roll around with his face in his hands a little but, but he did none of those things. Instead he put one elbow on the table and filled his lungs, one breath to prepare, one to do it.

"Hey," he indited. "You still wanna know if it's a date?" Pete was watching him more seriously.

"Sure," he answered, so Jimmy lowered his hand and hooked his fingers under Pete's chair, dragging it next to his in one quick shunt.

Pete was totally still, as he was in the habit of being when things went beyond his comfort zone, but Jimmy couldn't be swayed now. He had to do something or the whole idea would fall out of the sky and they'd just have been friends all this time with some needlessly awkward conversations. So he put his hand on Pete's shoulder, flat across it with his arm to Pete's arm, warm like it'd sucked up the heat of the sun.

Pete was looking right at him, their faces not more than a couple of inches apart, but Jimmy left it there, looking back straight into Pete's eyes, the tension tight as guitar strings. He moved forward very slightly, twisted a little to one side so his forehead touched Pete's; settling into rest, he leaned skin-to-skin and lowered his eyes. He might have been this close to Pete some time before, but never this intimate, never this direct in statement. It was enough, more than enough, just to stay like this losing track of his heartbeats, feeling just like he could – but wouldn't – move a fraction closer and kiss him.

"I'd like if it was a date," he said, choosing his words more carefully than he usually did. "If you would."

"Okay," Pete breathed, close enough for Jimmy to see the creases on his lips.

"Just okay?" he said, not removing the proximity and releasing the pressure-valve.

"I mean... yes," he admitted. "It can be a date."

For the first time Jimmy actually believed him; that he wasn't just saying it because he was Pete and could be pretty – maybe too – easy-going. It'd by his style to get shenaniganed into a relationship because he had no real objections. Jimmy smiled and raised his hand, then touched it to the side of Pete's face; thumb to ear, palm and fingers loose around him.

"Good," he declared, then with a scrape of his chair pulled back and moved away. Pete looked not dissimilar from when Jimmy had punched him.

"That's it?" he suddenly pronounced, and Jimmy dipped some of the few remaining fries and bit off the ends.

"Why, you want more?" he posed, and that buttoned Pete's lip very effectively for a minute or so. Pete surely knew that everything was on offer if he happened to want it. They finished their food as the sun went down and the stifling summer air became a warm evening one. Jimmy felt unweighted, not least by getting the first steps towards something more serious started without Pete totally locking up.

"Let's watch the sunset," he declared suddenly, watching the shadows creeping along the floor through the dirty beachouse windows.

"Wh... really?" Pete queried. "Why?"

"Dunno," Jimmy replied. "There's only one a day, isn't that enough of a reason?"

"There's only one sunrise too, but I didn't see you up at 6am watching it," Pete countered, being cheeky and difficult as he was prone to do on occasion.

"Yeah well we're here, the water's there," he narrated. "Why not?" Pete shrugged, eating cold fries more out of boredom than want, but rose when Jimmy did all the same.

They went out onto the edge and perched on the boardwalk, legs dangling off the end and watching the sun carve through the clouds and toxic fumes as it dropped below the horizon.

"It's pretty, I guess," Pete remarked vacantly.

"Ohh, how _romantic_," Jimmy leered. "You, me, the sun... all alone like this." He was acquiring a hyperbolic note, but that was okay because he wasn't trying to be serious.

"Yeah, yeah, Jimmy," Pete droned.

"Seriously, gimmie your hand," Jimmy badgered on, almost hurting his cheeks trying to hold the grin down. "Why, my heart's just racin',_"_ he delivered, adopting a shitty southern accent.

"Shut up!" Pete said through laughter, whipping his hands out of Jimmy's grasp like hawks chasing doves. He squirmed and shifted and seemed impossible to get a hold of, which only made Jimmy more determined to try and get him.

"True loves met by moonlight," he taunted, one arm almost-round Pete and the other trying to pry one of his hands out from under his arm.

"That's the _sun,_ dumbass," Pete retorted, and Jimmy didn't like his language one bit, even if it was delivered with a grin. He tried to get at Pete more insistently, but then gave up and shoved him off the edge instead. "Jimmy!" he squawked, flailing as he started to fall and grabbing one of Jimmy's legs below the knee.

Perhaps realising that he wasn't getting back up, or maybe retaliating in general, Pete's next effort was to drag Jimmy off the pier with him, a feat he clumsily achieved. As they both rolled into the sand, Pete landing worse of them and ending up on his back, Jimmy felt like it might be nuts or stupid and likely both of those and more, but things were going well and he loved a winning streak.

So instead of getting up, he moved on hands and knees and put one arm over Pete, hovering above him in the dimming light. Pete watched him with an expression that seemed something like interest, which was better than dread, but still worse than anticipation. However, Jimmy was getting used to Pete being curious instead of all the normal emotions he was primed to expect. Or he was used to telling himself it wasn't a bad thing. Curiosity could work.

He waited until he really wanted to, then with efficiency and speed he bent his arm and lowered, dropping his mouth onto Pete's for really no more than a second or two, though he did linger enough to make sure it _was _a kiss. He pulled back, checked Pete's countenance for the damage – reasonable, it seemed – and moved away to sit up, while Pete slowly righted himself.

"Hope that was okay," he said directionlessly, looking ahead and trying not to bury his mouth behind his hands.

"I was gonna say the same," Pete replied, tucking up his knees and resting his arms on them. "I'm not much of an expert with, uh... at that. Or any kind of expert," he babbled on, and then something occurred to Jimmy.

"Wait," he seized. "Was that your first kiss?" He didn't need an answer when Pete's face dipped so quickly behind his arms the moment Jimmy said it. He'd assumed – assumed that _surely _he had, because in Bullworth it seemed like everyone had. Or almost everyone. "Oh," he sighed. "I didn't know, I'm sorr-"

"You don't have to apologise," Pete interrupted, calm although his face was still obscured by his arms.

"Well... yeah, but I coulda... I didn't mean to just go an' do it like that," he fumbled. First kisses were meant to have more significance, or at least the other person should _know_ it. "Do you want to go again?" he offered in what he thought was a helpful way. He could put in more effort and make it something more than a quick, unimpressionable peck on the lips.

"I'm okay for the moment," Pete excused politely, and with his phrasing Jimmy didn't feel quite so rejected. It wasn't a no, just a 'not now', which he could live with. They were quiet for a moment, drowning in everything not being said. "Why'd you like me so much?" he asked finally, not looking up, and barely raising his voice enough to be heard.

Jimmy let out a long breath, dug his hands into the sand and shifted up next to him, leaning in until he could rest his head on Pete's shoulder, temple measuring the weight of the contact.

"I don't know," he confessed. Pete's shoulder didn't give way but supported him, allowing him to press with more weight. "You're nice."

"Is that really enough of a reason?" Pete questioned timidly, letting Jimmy fold against his side like kneading dough. "There's other nice people." Not as nice as him, Jimmy knew. People who _could _be nice, but not ones who were good all the way down through hell or high water.

"It's more than that," he elaborated. "I can trust you." But he trusted other people too, and that was surely what Pete would've said. "It's hard to explain," he stated before they rolled into the same circles of ask-and-respond.

"Can you try?" Pete pressed, but he was letting Jimmy drape all over him so there was something for both of them.

"Thing is," he began, digging some of the bullets out of his past with a penknife to drop into Pete's palm. "I move around a lot, an' even when I came here it was just people wanting stuff and fighting." Trying to keep his head up while pushing down the rat bastards who needed pushing.

"So?" Pete prompted gently.

"Well, it's been a while since I was settled enough to _have _friends," he explained, pulling the truth out of the lump in his throat where all these things had been stuck. This was one reason why it had to be Pete and not someone else; he couldn't say these things to just anyone. Pete would never judge him for admitting to isolation or loneliness, because he knew them as well. "You're pretty much the first person to just be my friend an' not _want _something."

Pete didn't ask him for anything, there was never any _'help me, Jimmy_', it was _'can I help you?'_ and he actually, really fucking appreciated that. Even with Gary, when Pete could be a nag, there were never any errands to run on Pete's behalf; it was Jimmy he'd been looking out for.

"And that makes you want to be something more?" Pete suggested, with his way of phrasing things that made Jimmy wonder if maybe he was as stupid as people seemed to think.

"We have fun, don't we?" he questioned back, and jiggled as Pete shrugged.

"Sure," Pete agreed. "Not like I've had loads of friends either."

"Then what's the problem?" Jimmy said, enjoying just being close and comfortable without it having to be going somewhere. He didn't need to prey on Pete the way he did with others, he was just content to let things happen.

"I just wonder if it's too convenient," Pete commented. "Like, is it because of me specifically, or just because I'm here."

"It's you," he insisted. Pete undersold himself a lot. Jimmy hadn't had best friend in a while. Zoe was like a best friend, but their dynamic was different, she had other friends going back way before Jimmy being here.

Jimmy wondered if maybe it was just him; that he wanted to sleep with anyone who got to being a 'best friend' because it seemed like the logical next step. He wondered if Pete had a point.

"I guess I can't really see it," Pete admitted shyly. "Why would anyone wanna date _me?_"

"You gotta stop overthinking," Jimmy advised. Or he'd get Jimmy doing it too and they'd be going nowhere good. "It doesn't have to be complicated. I like you. That's all." They didn't need a list of justifications half a mile long. Sometimes things just _happened._

"Yeah," Pete agreed weakly. Maybe he just couldn't trust a good thing when it happened to him. _If _Jimmy liking him was a good thing, the jury was still out on it.

"So I suppose we should go back to school before curfew," he remarked boredly, still slumped on Pete's shoulder with a comfortable ease.

"I'm not much of a Head Boy if I break the rules," he responded, and Jimmy sighed. He'd liked this, but it did have to end, so he picked himself off Pete and clicked out his neck.

"All right, goody-two-shoes," he baited, rising up and stretching. "Bus stop it is."

They didn't wait too long on the waterfront, hopping on an half-empty bus for the free ride back to Bullworth. Jimmy, feeling bold, decided to slump his arm along the back of the double-seat almost like he was putting it around Pete, which seemed to make him rather flustered.

"Jimmy," he said under his breath. "What if someone sees?"

"Sees what?" he replied confidently. "There ain't nothing to notice." Just two friends sitting side-by-side on a school bus together. For now. Pete almost hit the roof when Jimmy bent his arm and pinched his earlobe on the sly.

"_Jimmy_," he hissed, but Jimmy only sniggered.

"I do like it when you do that," he commented, and Pete composed himself and raised an eyebrow.

"Like what?" he asked.

"You going '_Jimmy, Jimmy_' all the time," he teased, little bit of parody in his tone. "Feels good when you're ringing my name like a bell." If he wasn't mistaken, maybe it was just that Pete had caught the sun, but it looked very almost as if he blushed, looking down at his feet and going quiet in that way he did.

"Well, what else am I meant to call you?" he pointed out, and Jimmy smirked as he moved his arm just a half-inch closer so his forearm was flush to the back of Pete's shoulders.

"I dunno," he remarked theatrically. "_Baby_, or _sweetheart_, or I always liked the idea of sugardaddy-"

"How about dumbass?" Pete suggested caustically, and Jimmy cuffed him round the back of the head – playfully, of course. He was through that stage of actually hitting Pete, hopefully. Which still haunted him, as a warning of what he was capable of.

Obviously once they were on campus it was back to being a pace apart, and regardless of whether or what he felt like it, Jimmy wasn't going to risk kissing Pete in the dorm where just about anyone could see and his business would be pasted all over the school like eggs on Halloween. Plus given what he'd found out, he felt like he ought to be more careful about if and when he was going to go down that path, especially if Pete was a total rookie.

As they exchanged a friendly goodnight and parted ways, Jimmy realised that they had a _long _way to go.


	10. Guilt

_10. Guilt_

While it was a given that Jimmy was quite firmly head over heels for Pete, that was not the same as needing or wanting to spend every minute of his free time with him. He did still have other things to do, errands to run, and other people to hang out with.

"So it's going pretty well?" Zoe declared over the buzz of the razor. With the heat he'd decided his hair had gotten to the stage of being goddam sick of it again, so that made it haircut day. He'd been given an electric razor by the owner of the Edge in thanks for delivering a large drum of chemical waste from Blue Skies, which was apparently what they used for bleaching, and was coincidentally exactly the moment he stopped getting his hair done there. Zoe had since taken over the job, given he couldn't shave in a straight line to save his life and would just end up buzzing the lot. She was actually pretty good at it.

"Leave the top," he instructed as she buzzed hair off his temples in honey-coloured tufts. It was still roasting so he could do without a sunburned and peeling scalp, and not just because it'd kill any mood of romance. They were sitting out front of the dorm with the cable fed out of his window. Not so much cleanup that way. "And it seems to be." Against his better expectations and instincts.

"After all that bitching," she remarked, working the back next. "Hate to say _'I told you not to be such a pussy'_, buuut-"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted. "Not like it's been all smooth sailin' either." Zoe had helped, he wasn't going to deny that, but not all of her advice had worked terribly well at the starting line either.

"Well you know what they say," she jeered, fingers running through his hair as she smoothed it back and separated it off. Jimmy was somewhat more distracted by the sensation. He'd forgotten exactly how much he liked being touched... in general, by anyone, and felt a pull back towards Zoe as more than a friend. Knowing what kind of fun they could have (and had) together wasn't at all helpful.

"What?" he asked limply, swearing that he'd punch himself in the dick if anything happened down there. She was only giving him a _haircut _for god's sake.

"The course of true love never runs smooth, love hurts, all that kinda shit," she reeled off sceptically, and he snorted. "How's that?" she declared, dusting off the sides of his newly-shorn scalp with her hands.

"Can't see it, can I?" he declared tartly, getting up off the milk-crate-stool and shaking a light dusting of hair off his shoulders. "So how do I look?" he continued. He definitely felt a little cooler – in temperature if nothing else. Zoe packed back and put a finger to her lips in thought.

"You know, I think this could be a look for you," she remarked, and she wasn't one to bullshit him. When he was still shaving his head she would tell him quite concisely that he looked like a 'shaved ballsack' and that might have been one feature in his starting to grow it out. Not to mention, he wasn't exactly opposed to having it grabbed hold of in the heat of the (right) moment. Hair was a luxury could could afford if you did more fucking than fighting, which was thankfully his life now. Or had been.

"Yeah? You like it?" he asked with a smirk, and only when Zoe raised her eyebrows at him did he notice he was flirting. Trying to, at least.

"I thought you were a one boy man?" she remarked, and a guilty edge sliced out a chunk out of his pride.

"Yeah," he murmured, feeling exactly like a sleaze. That was half the problem right there in a nutshell. He didn't mind going slow, but other parts of him did. "I was just messin' around," he lied, smiling more wholesomely, less crudely, and the moment was behind them again.

He'd thought that maybe Pete wasn't out of bed yet, but it turned out he'd been the one sleeping in, as Pete approached the dorm not ten minutes later from the outside, dressed up in his full uniform with the Head Boy blazer and everything. In _this _heat.

"Well look who it is," Zoe chimed as Pete got within earshot. "What's up, squirt?" Jimmy didn't know or even want to know what the reason for that nickname was. The more you thought about it the grosser it sounded.

"Not much, just running errands," he answered, shifting off his blazer and slinging it over one shoulder. "You've both been busy." Somehow it felt like an accusation in Jimmy's ear, even though he knew that was just his own guilt stuck in there first.

"You like it?" he asked instead, running his fingers through the top. It felt good at least.

"It's uh..." he trailed off like there was something to say that just stepped out of reach. "Kinda edgy."

"Edgy?" he scoffed. "More than bein' a skinhead?"

"In a different way," he answered, and Jimmy wasn't sure what to make of _that_. Zoe held the clippers up, blowing some hair off the ends.

"Wanna go next?" she queried, and Pete's face clouded over the way storms blew in up here.

"I think I'll trust the barber," he answered, at which Jimmy scoffed.

"I wouldn't," he commented, and Pete tipped his head.

"Eh?" he murmured quizzically, but Jimmy was dusting himself off, appreciating the breeze over the newly-shorn parts of his head.

"Lets go for a walk," he declared instead of explaining. Zoe was watching him. "You know, a... uh, you and me kinda walk," he added awkwardly. He didn't want to make things any more uncomfortable by combining Pete and Zoe when he was getting wild shots of emotion screwing things up. If he just got Pete alone he'd sort things out again.

"Actually, I've got to get back to the office in a second," Pete replied, and Jimmy's face must have dropped enough for everyone to notice. "But I guess I can hold ten minutes," he amended, and Jimmy straightened his frown out and tried not to feel like a bully.

With Pete's Head Boy blazer hanging like regalia off his shoulder, he walked with Jimmy towards the gates. No chance of getting privacy unless you were off-grounds, and even there you better check every corner twice. Keeping gossip under wraps was about as easy as getting medication down Gary Smith had been. But with those days behind them, Jimmy had new problems to wrestle, and almost missed the times of just being able to threaten and beat obstacles out of the way.

"Is everything all right?" Pete asked, and with a glance over his shoulder to check they were all in the clear, he edged off the road into the bushes, urging Pete up towards the wall.

"Sure," he semi-lied, putting a hand on the brickwork and leaning in.

"Jimmy," Pete said like some kind of warning, pressing flat to the wall until there was nowhere else for him to back into as Jimmy crooned closer. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he purred, "I'll be great in a minute, though." His usual kind of line, but when he ducked in to kiss Pete he was cold and stiff. "What's wrong?" he said, retreating at once.

"Nothing, it's just... uh, sudden," he fumbled, looking like Jimmy was some kind of predator running him down. Jimmy dropped his arm from the wall and stepped back. This was one arena he didn't like to feel threatening in.

"Should I not?" he asked, worried for Pete's answer. There were days in which 'going slow' was a lot harder, and this was one of them. Especially when he knew he had other options. His heart hated his dick, or whatever poetic equivalent there was for that universal problem.

"It's okay," Pete said weakly, "... only maybe now's not the best time or place." His eyes were following cars and occasional cyclists, and Jimmy could appreciate the risk, but he also knew most townspeople didn't give a damn.

"Okay," he forced awkwardly, frustration running wires through him and making every movement feel wrong. "Sure."

"Jimmy?" this time his entreaty was more worried. "Is something wrong?" He was too smart for his own damn good, Jimmy knew. That was part of why he'd ended up liking him; clever without arrogance, always on the point.

"I guess there's... a thing," he remarked, wondering if he should really go there. He didn't want to blow it, but equally, it was worth trying. What was the worst that could happen?

"Yeah?" Pete invited at his hesitation.

"We didn't agree to be exclusive, right?" he blurted in an ungainly mess, and Pete was rarely caught in a moment of surprise, with no words or reaction beyond widened eyes. He was always expressionless at the times other people would show more feeling on their face.

"I... guess we didn't," he replied awkwardly. "Is there something-"

"No," Jimmy interrupted, quick to assuage those ideas. "Nothing's, I mean, it's not like I've done anything. I was just wondering."

In the back of his mind, Jimmy wondered if this was in his nature; as soon as he had someone in the hand, he wanted the bird in the bush. A constant rotation, even when he'd thought this one was going to be different.

"Is it because I didn't want to... just now," Pete offered, and Jimmy felt a lot like a scumbag. As if he couldn't keep it in his pants.

"No," he said as truthfully as he could manage. "Well, I mean, it's not _unrelated." _He wasn't going to lie about it, and he sure wouldn't be asking these questions if they were making out right now instead of 'talking'.

"Right," Pete remarked, crossing his arms, blazer hanging over his arms. "Look Jimmy," he started with a patient breath. "I know it isn't... well, I know I'm not exactly easy to..." he faltered again. "You don't have to wait for me," he explained at last.

"What?" Jimmy pressed. "That wasn't what I was saying."

"No, but maybe it's better to call it now," he cut in. "I can't just... expect you to wait for me while I work things out." Jimmy felt awful because surely that was what he was supposed to do. He'd thought he could manage this.

"It's all right," he insisted. "I mean, I get... frustrated, whatever. It's okay."

"Jimmy, I dunno if I'm ever gonna... well, what if I'm not gonna be what you want?" he questioned like he couldn't see it at all – see why anyone'd want him when they could have someone, even anyone, else.

"You are," he insisted, feeling dread chew away at him like he'd swallowed a rat. He'd meant to pull Pete away for a quick make-out session, and now they were dancing around breakup talk for a relationship that never even happened.

"But I'm not, though," Pete retorted, calm in his tone, posture locked down. "I'm not, yunno... like _that_." Perhaps he meant bi-, or sexually active, or simply a person who would've taken his initiation and made out for ten minutes then gone back to school content.

"C'mon, Pete," he said in a way that was too close for a plea, stirring his pride like a dormant thermal. "It's not like that. I'm not gonna force you."

"I'm not saying it won't ever be a thing," he negotiated. "But, if you're having, um... issues. Maybe it's best to just leave it for a while. We can still be frie-"

"Don't do this," he said, sounding crosser than he meant to. "I meant-"

"Just let me finish," Pete cut in like he'd just pulled a new razor out of his pocket. Jimmy was actually a bit shocked. "_Us _can still be... whatever, but it doesn't need to be 'exclusive' – like you said." He phrased it like this was what Jimmy wanted, but he had his doubts.

"So what does that make us?" he asked, realising he'd crossed his arms in reflection. Cut off from one another.

"Same as ever?" Pete suggested hopefully. "I'm better at being a friend than a... whatever." Boyfriend, he meant. Jimmy wasn't exactly boyfriend material either, so it should've been a good arrangement, yet it didn't feel right. Then again, he couldn't force Pete, and if this was his way of getting out, Jimmy wasn't going to steamroll him. Maybe it was for the best, he consoled himself.

"If you think so," he conceded, running a hand through his hair out of habit. "One for the road?" he posed cheekily, lifting an eyebrow.

"Jimmy," he bemoaned, and it wasn't half as enjoyable to hear him bleat his name any more. "I've gotta go," Pete excused, stepping out from the roadside and slipping his blazer back on. In the distance Jimmy saw a cluster of miserably grey clouds, and thought it very appropriate.

"See ya," he forced, waiting til Pete was gone before he turned and sat back against the wall. It felt like his fault, and he was content to sit with the blame and bask in it. He figured Zoe would come looking for him, but right now, he didn't want to have to explain anything. Like how he'd spoken too honestly and come on too strong and scared off the first guy he'd honest-to-god liked in a long time.

So he got up and went for a long walk.

* * *

Another 'shorter' chapter but I like shorter ones. Sometimes it's nice being able to read a chapter in 10 mins rather than half an hour. Sorry (not sorry) that all the troubles aren't over for our boys yet ;) If you like, leave a review! (I get so lonely).


	11. Jealousy

_11. Jealousy_

It had only taken Jimmy three days of solid moping and smoking himself out of feeling anything with cheap weed to get over the worst of it. Sure, they'd said that 'them' didn't have to _not _be a thing, but Pete also said that they would go back to being friends, and Jimmy knew an easy let-down when he got one. It was as good as over.

By the time he felt like showing up to classes again, the wound was half-healed and he could look at Pete straight. Figuratively speaking, at least. He still had the feeling of being choked from inside, but could keep a lid on it as he slid in the row behind Pete, who was barely a second before his neck was 180 in Jimmy's face.

"Are you all right?" he shot so fast Jimmy could've missed it. "You've been gone for-"

"I was just doin' stuff," he replied easily, not thinking about _it_ like he'd set the whole event in concrete. "Why, miss me?" he baited, then decided it was too close, pushing back in his chair and pointing his eyes to the ceiling.

"N-, uh, good one," he replied shakily, not enough eye contact between them to ever share a look.

"Did I miss much?" he asked, not really bothered with the answer, but feeling it was a thing that'd carry conversation on long enough for things not to get awkward.

"Not really," Pete admitted, so he tipped back further in his chair, quieting down as the lesson was called into order. If Jimmy wasn't totally out of his mind, which he could be, but Pete almost seemed... guilty. Like maybe he held himself to blame for Jimmy disappearing for three days of school. Which, to be fair, he was, so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing for him to get a dose of the guilts too, given what Jimmy had been stewing in.

He soon remembered why he used to skip lessons all the time, because a two-day school week was nothing to be sniffed at. The weekend arrived, damp after a few days rain in relief from the heat, but with sunshine again by the morning. On his way out he passed by Pete, who if he wasn't much mistaken, was watching for him.

"Hey Jimmy," he called out as Jimmy passed, and he almost tripped over the rug.

"Oh, hey," he said awkwardly.

"Going somewhere?" Pete probed obviously, and Jimmy had to wonder why his interest piqued now of all times. Or was that the rule of the chase?

"I was heading out for some errands," he answered. "Well, not errands really. I was goin' shopping."

"Shopping?" Pete queried, it sounding about as strange as it was.

"Sure," he replied easily. "My style. Why're you asking?" he said, and then, a dare. "You wanna come?" Pete had shot their romance in the foot, but that didn't mean they couldn't hang out as friends. That'd been half the point of his speech.

"Shopping?" he queried. "For what?"

"All kinds of stuff," he answered. "It's fun." He could see the decision in Pete's face. On one hand he probably still wanted to be friends, on another he didn't want to be 'leading Jimmy on' or whatever his overactive mind might think of, but then, tipping the balance, he was clearly curious. Down the decisions fell.

"All right," he said at last.

"Go get your allowance and meet me out front," Jimmy decreed, pushing a hand back through his hair. With some time to study the new cut, he'd decided he liked it, and not just because it was easy to wash and stayed the fuck out of his face. Zoe had done him a solid on that, not to mention letting him have her shoulder to be miserable on for a few hours without asking any questions beyond 'he says we're better as friends'. She was reliable like that.

Pete shuffled out a few minutes later and then off they went, bussing into town. Pete followed Jimmy all the way into the New Coventry-Blue Skies border where a warehouse had open doors for once.

"This is where you go shopping?" Pete inquired sceptically, and Jimmy just smirked and shouldered his way in. Inside tables and rails filled up the whole floorspace, crammed with clothes that combined old man, dog and liquid smoke all in equal proportions. "Is this-?"

"Lemme guess, you've never been thrifting," Jimmy interluded, offering him a smirk. "I said it was _my style_." Two bucks a piece was his style. Ten for shoes or coats. Rest was free game. He marched over to the first table and found a pair of big plastic-framed sunglasses, slipping them on and sliding the bridge up his nose. He was sick of wincing in the sun, so they'd do. He flipped them up onto his head and started rummaging.

Pete stood in the doorway awkwardly for a good few minutes before he did a damn thing, but then started to meekly follow in Jimmy's wake, seemingly afraid of actually _touching _the clothes. Jimmy, naturally, was in his element. He'd already found a sleeveless shirt with a Donnie Darko bunny wearing shutter-shades on, and was trying on a fringed leather vest that he knew would look perfect with it. And if anyone laughed at him (again) he'd throw them into a trashcan.

"Do you get a lot of stuff at places like this?" Pete inquired as he shuffled up near Jimmy's side, one shoulder accumulating a stack of used clothes that were soon to become _his _clothes.

"Sure, I guess so," he remarked. Not until the Townies had shown him this place , of course, but since he'd been introduced a good proportion of his kit had come out of the heaps of clothes that were stolen, died in or dumped in trash cans by the preps' servants at the end of the season. He'd found far too much fucking Aquaberry in these bins for his tastes. "Why?"

"It just... uh, makes sense," he answered, and Jimmy threw a pink t-shirt at him.

"Your colour," he gibed, and Pete held it up. It'd be a dress on him, but that didn't mean it couldn't be worn.

"Thanks," Pete said sarcastically, dumping the shirt back and flipping through things like he was going to get bitten. "Is this really-"

"Jimmy?" a new voice chimed out, and Jimmy looked up to see Duncan staring at him from over a table, crooked grin plastered on. "How you doin' bro?"

"Fancy seein' you here," Jimmy replied, clapping hands with him across the table in a casual shake that townies favoured.

"You getting' on all right? How'd that bud-" Duncan started, and Jimmy hissed sharply out one corner of his mouth to shut him up. About him perhaps bleeding some of his sore heart to Duncan, and that the remedy had been about forty bucks worth of weed. Pete didn't need to know either of those things.

"I'm good," he answered sunnily, leaning over the table. "Got any finds?"

"Check it," Duncan proclaimed, holding up a pair of plaid pants. Glancing around, half of the townie crew were scattered around the tables, but Duncan had been the one to end up across the table – and to actually say something, given they were marginally closer than the rest, bar Zoe.

"Fucker," Jimmy hissed. "I think those are mine." They looked exactly like a pair he'd bought from The Edge like a chump. And he hadn't seen them in a while – in fact, he remembered leaving them in his hideout in Blue Skies.

"Finders keepers, Jimmy," Duncan baited, and Jimmy swiped across the table like he was gonna snatch them out of Duncan's hands, who yoinked them back with a laugh.

"Fine," he conceded. "Your ass always did look better in them." Smaller, he meant. He was always scared of splitting the crack of those things straight open if he bent over.

"You know it," Duncan retorted cheekily, an easy flirt in his manner. It was the way he talked to most people, but Jimmy could _feel _Pete's silence behind him. He sure as hell wasn't looking at the clothes any more. Fine, Jimmy decided just a little vindictively. If they were going to only be friends, that meant no complaints about who he flirted with.

"Try this one on," Jimmy announced, throwing a super-scoop vest at him, and Duncan was exactly the person to have no issues about pulling off his t-shirt and slipping into the top. Jimmy couldn't have asked for a move convenient set-up. Or hot-bodied guy to rub it in.

"Why does it hang so low?" Duncan questioned tersely, the 'neck' of his new vest hanging noticeably lower than his pecs.

"Put those tits away," Jimmy goaded, and Duncan snorted, pulling it off and throwing it half-way down the table. He decided not to bother putting his original shirt on while he continued browsing, which made sense given the weather and his tried-and-tested sizing method; Jimmy made a few careful turns to see if Pete was watching, though they didn't merit much in the way of results. He had to remind himself that Pete had said, seemingly seriously, that he wasn't gay, so half-naked guys milling around scratching their mohawks til they went all flat wasn't supposed to do anything for him. Jimmy wondered if he'd ever done anything for him either. He stuck his head back into the bundles of clothing and carried on, trying not to think about it.

"Hey Jimmy," it was Duncan's voice, not Pete's, which he lied to himself about being disappointed by. Pete had gone conspicuously quiet, which could unfortunately mean almost anything. Duncan was holding up a pair of leather pants. "You know you want them."

"Sure," he snorted. "Something that some dude's ass has been sweating in for ten years, hand'em over." Duncan, being a twat, threw them at him anyway, and Jimmy ducked at just the wrong moment for the pants to go sailing into Pete who was a few steps behind him. He almost fell over, not because he was that flimsy but from the sheer shock of it. "Jesus, watch it!" Jimmy found himself snapping as he pulled the pants off Pete who seemed dazed more than anything else.

"Sorry," Duncan offered uninterestedly, peering at Pete like he hadn't realised that he was even here. "Uh... have we met?"

"Pete," Jimmy filled in before Pete awkward-silenced his way into it. "A friend," he found himself adding out of spite.

"Hi," Pete murmured uncomfortably, and Jimmy was considering if he should've invited Pete at all, given how unmotivated he seemed. Perhaps he just hadn't expected it to be like this, or what Jimmy's friends outside of school were like, even if Zoe had once been one. _Or_ he was being bothered by something else, but Jimmy daren't think about that or he'd just let himself down.

"W'ssup," Duncan replied, rummaging back into the piles. They got almost all the way down the row before something came up. "Hey... lil' dude," Duncan called out like he'd probably forgotten Pete's name the moment Jimmy said it. He was holding a pair of jeans. "Bet you'd get into these." He threw them at Pete who caught them. They were either acid wash or had just been rinsed about a million times, and for whatever reason motivated him, Pete looked at the lable.

"These are for girls," he said sourly.

"So?" Duncan replied. "I'd wear'em if they'd fit. Feel how soft they are." Jimmy reached out and pawed at them. Point to being washed half a thousand times or so.

"Well shit," he remarked "They do feel good."

"Right?" Duncan retorted cheerfully. "Imagine that on your butt." Typical Duncan. Jimmy rolled his eyes, but apparently no one saw.

"Quit making fun of me," Pete berated, tossing the pants back, and Duncan made an utterly bemused face.

"What?" he queried, while Jimmy was putting together the pieces.

"He ain't," he explained to Pete. "They're just pants, who gives a fuck what the label says."

"It says _princess," _Pete bitched.

"Sooo?" Duncan lauded cheekily. "I'd rock being a princess."

"If you were five sizes smaller," Jimmy baited, and Duncan cocked that broken smile at him. The one he swore dropped a girls panties at ten yards. "Look, you don't like'em, whatever," he dismissed on Pete's behalf. Perhaps he wasn't quite used to the anything-goes rules of places like this.

They carried on shopping until Jimmy had a whole new set of summer clothes that he'd hopefully not die of heat stroke in, including an excellent full-length linen tunic with some kind of psudo-ethnic design stitched on the back. By the time he got to the counter where they counted everything up and paid he'd only spent fifteen bucks, which he considered a successful trip. Flipping his new shades down and strolling back outside with a crappy paper bag full of new-old threads, Duncan was stuffing a collection of shirts and wristbands into a shitty backpack, while Pete followed empty handed.

"What you guys doin' now?" Duncan inquired brightly, and Jimmy shrugged, turning to one side.

"Pete?" he inquired, but Pete hadn't any more ideas than he did.

"I've got an eighth if you wanna-" Duncan started, and Jimmy gave him a jab in the arm. "I mean, if you guys wanna chill for a while," he re-phrased in a less obvious way, but Jimmy suspected Pete knew what he meant.

"I've got some... stuff to do," Pete said before Jimmy could say anything. He wasn't trying to make Pete a third wheel, but he'd sort of slotted himself into the position by merit of not really saying anything, even though Duncan was actually one of the most easygoing and relaxed of the townies. A normal kid who got screwed over.

"It's fine," Jimmy tried to play out, feeling kind of like an asshole. "We're just gonna be-" _hanging out_, he was going to say, and if Pete was going to weird out over a joint then they didn't have to smoke. Duncan would understand.

"School stuff," Pete excused, shuffling back. "You guys just do, uh, whatever it is you wanna do. I'll seeyalaterJimmy," he blurted all in one, and before Jimmy could counsel him Pete was off like his heels were on fire.

"What's up with him?" Duncan queried.

"He's just like that," Jimmy sighed. Nervous and quick to assume he didn't fit in. Or maybe Jimmy had gotten to him with some of those dumb jokes and messing around with Duncan. Either way, it'd been done now.

"But you're still good, right?" Duncan asked.

"Oh yeah," he confirmed. "Let you smoke alone? Never." Duncan grinned his trademark smirk, gave Jimmy a shove-pat in the shoulder, and they set off for one of the more scenic broken-down cars in Blue Skies for some rest and relaxation. Rolled up and half a joint later, they started chatting again.

"So you over the guy from before?" Duncan commented out of the blue, and Jimmy recalled dishing out some of the specifics when he'd been buying away his heartache last week.

"Eh," he replied. "Don't really know where I am with him any more... I mean, you saw this afternoon."

"Wait?" Duncan said, "the lil' dude from earlier? _He's _the one?"

"I thought you knew," Jimmy answered, then realised there was no way he would. "He's nice if you get to know him," he found himself legitimizing.

"Hey, whatever," Duncan dismissed easily. Never one to judge. "Is that why it was weird?"

"Was it weird?" Jimmy pounced on. "I mean, you thought it was weird?"

"I dunno," Duncan said with a shrug. "He's a bit quiet."

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed awkwardly, nabbing the joint back and taking a drag. He'd stop worrying about it soon enough. Overthinking it wasn't going to get him anywhere, that much had been established. "Quiet cause he's like that, or quiet cause he's fucked off at me?" For making things more awkward than they had to be.

"Why?" Duncan retorted. "Didn't _he _dump you?"

"He didn't dump me," Jimmy snapped. "We never even... whatever. He just said there was no need to be 'exclusive' or whatever. Said we're better off as friends."

"I heard that one before," Duncan concurred worldly. "Well then, enjoy it," he advised. "Know what'll make you feel better?" He took the joint back and relit it. "If you like, you can jerk me off."

"Fuck off," Jimmy scoffed, shoving him and taking the joint back. "You always say that."

"And you have no idea how many handies I've gotten because of it," he replied. "You know there's a guy in Old Bullworth Vale who'll give _you _money to jerk you off?" The way he phrased it was only one of the many disturbing things about that statement.

"I don't even wanna know," Jimmy said coldly. "Anyway, it's probably me just being... whatever. Bet he's off doin' homework or something."

"Take your mind off it," Duncan advised. "Worrying the shit never got anyone anywhere." He sucked the last out of a joint and leaned back, his purchases for a pillow. Jimmy reminded himself he still had friends and a life – in this town of all places.

Things would look up. He just had to let it go.


	12. Confession

_12. Confession_

When Jimmy showed up back to school a couple of hours later, red-eyed and feeling exactly like he wanted a very serious nap, the last thing he expected was someone waiting for him, but then, he'd have been wrong. Pete must have been lurking somewhere in the common room, because there was no way he'd have known to get to Jimmy's door exactly thirty seconds after he walked through it.

"You're back kinda early," he declared, rather than starting with a 'hello' or anything like that.

"Am I?" Jimmy asked vaguely, grabbing a half-filled bottle of stale water and downing it. He'd dumped his haul of shopping for the day at the end of the bed, thankfully not forgetting it and leaving it out in Blue Skies under some car bumper... like last time.

"It hasn't been... well, I mean, I figured you were... it's still early," Pete mumbled incoherently, and Jimmy couldn't tell if it was because he was still a little high or Pete was just making fuck all sense.

"We were only chillin'," he answered vaguely. "It don't have to take all day."

"Oh, I suppose it doesn't," Pete echoed ineloquently, hovering like there was something bugging him.

"What is it?" Jimmy said bluntly, forgetting not to just speak his mind. "You've been bummed out since this mornin'."

"That's not true," Pete said with a sham imitation of truth.

"What is it? You got a problem with thrifting?" he queried, and Pete shook his head. "So it's Duncan?" he accused.

"No," Pete forced. "He's... nice, I guess."

"I know he ain't exactly polished, but neither am I," Jimmy retorted. "I didn't figure you for having a problem with someone like that."

"It's fine," Pete mumbled. "You can... with whoever you like, it's not my place to-"

"Wait, what?" Jimmy interrupted. Pete meant smoking weed together, surely.

"I said it was fine to, uh... you know," Pete fumbled. "Maybe it's just a bit weird if I'm there."

"For what?" Jimmy pressed. "There wasn't... isn'tanything to _be _weird." He could swear that it was almost as if Pete were jealous because he thought Duncan was his rebound fuck. Then again, he was probably just deluding himself.

"Oh, okay," Pete said weakly, eyes on his feet.

"Did you come here to find out if something was going on with him?" Jimmy found himself asking, like he could be dumb enough to push that boat out.

"Of course n-" Pete started, and glanced up long enough to see Jimmy was staring right at him. "I might've wondered."

"Wondered," Jimmy echoed. "If I'm screwing someone else?"

"Jimmy!" Pete brayed. It was fair; not like he'd been screwing anyone in the first place. But it was a guilty cry.

"Are you telling me you care?" he prompted.

"What?" Pete said like asking vague questions was going to get him out of it.

"If I'm getting with anyone else," Jimmy explained simply.

"That'd be crazy," Pete declared.

"That's not an answer," he pointed out.

"I was the one who said... you know... I said you should go any just do... whatever it is you want to," he babbled, and Jimmy was only half listening to him, the other half of his mind taken up trying to decide if this could actually be happening or if he was misreading the situation.

"You did," he confirmed. "But I asked if it bothers you."

"Just because I... whatever," he huffed. "It doesn't mean I'm going to be fine with someone just... _there_." Flirting in front of him; he was behaving almost like an ex, one who hadn't moved on.

"Duncan's always like that," Jimmy answered a little tartly. "He'd have been like it with you if you gave him the chance." And confuse the fuck outta Pete it would've done.

"Really?" he queried.

"Of course," Jimmy spat. "He's just a mate." In the platonic and not national geographic sense.

"Yeah, but... I... it seemed like-" Pete fumbled about as awkwardly as he'd handled pretty much everything. Jimmy was noticing a pattern.

"It seemed like I was flirting with someone else and that _bothered _you?" he questioned, getting a bit raw around the edges. "So just tell me if I'm being crazy or if you give a fuck, Pete, because I can't take this mind game bullshit again." All that not knowing and wondering and ripping himself apart every other move because he was thinking too much only to get let down.

"I'm not playing mind games," he defended cattily.

"I never said you were!" Jimmy snapped. "Look, would you answer the fucking question!" Temper officially a thing of the past, he noted.

"Okay!" Pete threw back at him equally furiously. "Yes! It bothers me! Are you happy now?" He turned away like he was going to storm out, but the door was shut and he didn't seem quite at the point of opening it and actually leaving.

"Really?" Jimmy asked, stilled like all the storm had been taken out of him.

"Of course," he said sadly. "You were the first person to... anything, basically."

"Wait," Jimmy intervened. "You dumped _me."_

"I didn't," he retorted. "I-"

"We were dating, then you said we were better off as friends," Jimmy paraphrased bluntly. "You pretty much dumped me."

"We went on _two _dates," Pete argued.

"Which changes what?" he spat. "If you'd given me a chance we would've had more."

"You just wanted to go round the back of the school and... and make out!" Pete burst.

"Yeah?" Jimmy bit. "So?"

"Well I... that's... not really me," he excused wanly.

"Right, so tagging along with me, but not saying anything or having fun or talking to anyone new is _more _you?" he suggested cruelly, and Pete looked like he could've hit him.

"That's not fair," he said. "I thought that... you and him-"

"Were what?" he challenged Pete to fess up.

"Were a better _thing _than we ever were!" Pete erupted, and the shock of that one caught Jimmy too.

"You really thought that?" he posed, and Pete shrugged.

"Seemed like it to me," he said glumly, hands in his pockets. He'd never even given them a chance, honestly, but Jimmy didn't feel like pushing that line was going to get them anywhere.

"It bugged you enough to come here and find out for sure?" he questioned, and Pete shrugged again.

"So?" he mumbled. "I didn't want to wonder." What would _that _be like, Jimmy thought to himself bitterly.

"I wanna know if you still care," he snapped back. "It's not that difficult to answer."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Pete admitted. "I _said_ it bothers me."

"Because what?" Jimmy replied, dragging the truth out of him even if he had to dredge for hours. "Because you don't like him, or because you're jealous?"

"Of course," Pete returned faster than Jimmy expected. "I'm jealous that it's _easy _for you and everyone else. You think I like this? That I want to watch you move on after I ruined everything because I can't just do whatever it is that makes it easy and simple to just _like _someone else and want to do all the normal stuff." Jimmy had heard enough. He got to his feet, fists flexing.

"You haven't ruined anything," he said calmly, forcing it down like cod liver oil.

"I haven't exactly made it easy," Pete steamed on. "And the worst part is I think I _do_ like you but I can't even-"

"Goddamit!" Jimmy snapped, deciding that he was just going to have to step up and accept that Pete might just _need _pushing sometimes. He stepped forward and raised his hands, one palm to each side of Pete's head as he took hold of him and moved _properly _close. "You like me?"

"I think so," he wavered, as he always did. "Thinking you and that Duncan guy were... it did make me.. you know."

"Jealous," Jimmy supplied.

"Jealous," Pete echoed like he was disappointed in himself.

At some point words were only words and weren't going to be enough, and he was never much of a guy for those anyway. He'd been holding Pete's face in his hands for the better part of a minute and Pete hadn't frozen up, he hadn't even gone the least bit cold, which he was taking as a good sign. Maybe he was waiting too.

So when Jimmy closed his eyes and just moved in for the kiss, he was somewhat relieved that he'd been right and Pete had in some part wanted it too – because he certainly didn't pull away, and in fact he was kissing back the way you could _tell_ someone returned a kiss. If they didn't it felt like trying to french a wall, and this wasn't like that. Not at all. He could feel Pete moving into him, like he could flex the right way be even closer, but Jimmy broke the contact and moved back instead.

"Still gotta _think?_" he asked sceptically, Pete's face under his thumbs, looking up at him without fear or uncertainty for once. Like maybe he'd finally learned to enjoy it – that he wasn't meant to be overthinking everything every step of the way.

Why it'd happened for Pete _now_ of all times he didn't know, something about not knowing what he had until it was gone, or poetic shit like that, but Jimmy didn't care any more.

Pete shook his head, and a heartbeat later Jimmy moved back in, this time at enough of an angle to get good and close, and even dare for a bit of open-mouth action. He could feel Pete's hands come up to his arms, the wetter parts of lips on his, while everything inside him twisted up and dissolved like he'd dropped his heart in acid. It was finally perfect.

He kissed Pete until he felt like he'd pass out without a break, and moved away to notice Pete's eyes had closed too, and he looked a good shade warmer.

"So, are we making this work now?" Jimmy asked tentatively, lowering his hands.

"I thi-" Pete started, and then stopped himself. "It looks like we are," he confirmed, and just to test it, he put a hand to Pete's neck and ducked in for one more peck, which he accepted, if a little quizzical.

"Good," Jimmy settled.

"So... now what?" Pete asked like he wasn't sure what the next step after this was. Jimmy had had a whole list of things he couldn't wait to get started on, but this was still Pete and he was only on his third or so kiss of his life, so things were going to have to wait.

"Anything feel okay with, I guess?" he suggested, and Pete narrowed his eyes in thought, then smiled in a slightly unnerving way.

"Well..." he began craftily.

* * *

"Did I ever tell you that I hate you?" Jimmy remarked obnoxiously, even if Pete was draped over his shoulder with his chin hooked round Jimmy's collarbone and an arm coating his like a sleeve.

"Sure you do," Pete murmured lazily, eyes on the desk. "So just do the questions already." Of all the things to decide to do, Pete had wanted more fucking math homework. It made sense that nothing in Jimmy's life was going to go _that _well for too long.

"Why should I?" he challenged, and Pete sighed all down his neck. Which was a thing.

"Because you'll fail if you don't," he replied, and Jimmy turned to the side of his shoulder Pete was perched on like a parrot. Close enough to twist their mouths together for a stretched kiss that Pete only accepted in passing. Distraction tactics. Jimmy lobbied again, and Pete adjusted so it was no longer possible to drag him into any more of it. "That's not going to work," he commented, and Jimmy huffed. "How about," he suggested anew. "One for every question you actually stop procrastinating on and finish."

"One what?" Jimmy haggled, and didn't see Pete roll his eyes but expected him to have done it.

"Kiss," he specified, and actually hearing him _say _these words even did things to Jimmy. Like finally getting it together with his crush was going to make it any smaller, what insane logic had possessed him to think like that? He found himself trying not to think about anything to do with Pete and focus on the ridiculous arrangements of numbers in front of him. Substitute the symbols for numbers, or whatever the hell it'd been.

"Was that so hard?" Pete goaded as Jimmy finished the first set, and he sat up straight to turn with a wicked look in his eye.

"Wrong question," he retorted, palm heavy to his cheek as he sucked a kiss off his face; none of these pecks and messing around. Lucky he was sitting anyway, because with fourteen questions still to go he'd be packing by the end of it. Better not to mention that yet, he had a feeling that getting Pete into these things gradually would work much better that proverbially sticking erections in his face... not that the imagery was going to help him at all at a time like this.

"Back to work, Jimmy," Pete instructed when they parted; but it was really only half an instruction, and if he wasn't entirely losing his mind, the playful tone of the other was paramount to a flirt. As if Pete was finally learning how to flirt with him. Intentionally, at least.

"You drive a hard bargain," he insisted, facing back down into the work and happy to find Pete was resting over his shoulder again as he had before. Like maybe he wanted to, actually enjoyed it and all of that jazz.

Fourteen questions with fourteen escalating makeout sessions between them took approximately ten times as long as it'd have taken if Jimmy had been doing the work on his own and not with Pete slinking over his shoulder like a winter scarf, but he so far from not complaining he'd crossed state borders.

"Now what?" Jimmy proposed, tossing his pen away and half-turning to Pete.

"I've got stuff to do," Pete answered dutifully. "Scheduling prefect rosters, _my _homework..."

"Good," Jimmy declared, turning to face Pete, which also meant breaking contact. "Then go get them, and for everything you finish you get a wet one."

"When you say it like that, it sounds pretty gross," he commented haughtily.

"Then you get some hot-Hopkins-loving," he declared ecstatically. "I've got a weekend deal on."

"You've _always_ got a deal on," Pete said with a laugh, and then backed his chair out and stood up. "But all right." He went off to get whatever diaries or Head Boy nonsense he needed for the job, while Jimmy talked his semi down a few notches and remarked to himself that if this was the way he was going to do all his homework from now on, he was on the road to becoming a highly productive and sexually frustrated honour student.

Well, he reflected as Pete returned with a comfortable grin that made it seem like maybe they'd finally cracked this one (and all it'd taken was an excruciating emotional roller-coaster), worse things had happened.

* * *

If there's such a thing as _rage-_finishing fanfic, this is it. Or 'vague discontent and wanting something to suddenly be done'-finishing at least.

Saving all the good stuff for last apparently, and with math homework we come full circle. Thanks for reading, and find me on tumblr to await for the slutty sequel I have planned 'The 4 Stages of Seducing Pete Kowalski', because post-get-together couple fics are actually my favourite.

Leave a review, or don't and have a nice day!

-Fear


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